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                           American Wrestling Alliance
                                 Proudly Presents
                         AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

                         Live from the WKIK Studios
                                   Dallas, Texas
                                  June 28, 2008
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[As the closing notes to the "Sanford And Son" theme fade into nothing,
the viewing audience is greeted by the sounds of "One More Saturday
Night" by the Grateful Dead.

A large white map of the United States fills the screen as the music
plays.  The shot zooms through the map, different states "popping up"
into view as we race past them.  As we pull back from the map, it no
longer is white but rather made up of the Stars and Stripes.

The map goes into a spin, spinning round and round as we zoom all the
way into it, dissolving into a few slow motion shots of animated men
battling in a red, white, and blue ring.  The animation runs through
various wrestling moves from an atomic drop to a bodyslam to a
piledriver.

And as the blue animaniac applies a clawhold on the white animaniac, we
freeze and the AWA logo fills the screen.

After a moment, we fade away from the cheaply done intro to the smiling
faces of two men.

One is clad in a dark navy suit, white dress shirt, and red and white
striped tie.  He sports nicely-styled salt and pepper hair and a
well-groomed moustache.  He grips a wireless mic in his hand, grinning
widely at the camera.  In his late-50's and the epitome of
professionalism, this man is Gordon Myers.

By his side is... well, somewhat a bit more flashy.  With a mic in one
hand and a glitter covered briefcase in the other, this man is paunchy
to say the least.  He's got a decent sized gut pushing at the buttons on
his lime green dress shirt underneath an eye-burning yellow jacket.  His
black hair is tousled in all directions like he hasn't run a comb
through it in his life.  His teeth appeared to have been whitened
recently... perhaps several times even as he flashes a huge smile.  He's
in his late 30's... he's former manager "Big Bucks" Bucky Wilde.

They're standing in front of a bluish gray standard television studio
set where you can see the AWA logo splashed across the wall above a
small television monitor.  Wilde lifts his glittering briefcase with a
flourish, slapping it down onto a wooden "desk" in front of them as
Myers begins to speak.]

GM:  Good evening, fans, and welcome to an abbreviated edition of AWA
Saturday Night Wrestling featuring all the stars of the American
Wrestling Alliance, _the_ major league of professional wrestling.  I am
Gordon Myers, your host for the next two hours of action, and by my
side, as always, the infamous Bucky Wilde.  

BW:  It is your pleasure, of course, Gordon Myers.

GM:  Of course.  Bucky, we've got a lot to talk about over the next
ninety minutes - fans, be sure you stay tuned for Texas Rangers baseball
live here on WKIK after our show.  We are just one week away from The
Battle Of Dallas, an event that will take place here in the WKIK Studios
next weekend and the lineup for that night is, quite frankly,
incredible.

BW:  That's right, daddy!  Where to begin, where to begin?

GM:  How about that huge six man tag team match with Calisto Dufresne,
Stevie Scott, and Adrian Freeman teaming up to take on Kentucky's Pride
and "Showtime" Rick Marley?

BW:  Stevie Scott is being forced to compete by the AWA in that one or
he's gone, daddy!

GM:  A threat of suspension hanging over the head of Mr. Scott if he
tries to pull another one of his tricks to get out of the match.  I
believe, finally, we will see Stevie Scott in action next week, Bucky. 
And how about that gigantic grudge match with Tumaffi taking on the
Ragin' Rebel, Ricky Royal?

BW:  Somebody call the hospice where Erik Reid is living out his days
because Ricky Royal's going to need a bed next to him after next
weekend.

GM:  Speaking of grudge matches, the Russians will meet Werewolf
Gregorson and Despair... IN A RUSSIAN CHAIN MATCH!

BW:  It's brutal, it's dangerous, and it's bound to be bloody, daddy!

GM:  In addition to that, we're going to see the National Title
defended.  There will be a ten man battle royal with the Top Ten
contenders to the gold at the beginning of the night.  The winner of
that match will meet the National Champion, whoever it may be, in the
Main Event for the title.

BW:  You act like it might be someone other than the current champ,
Marcus Broussard, Gordo, when we all know it just ain't so!

GM:  You may believe that, Bucky, but AWA fans, you heard the news last
week that Marcus Broussard has been ordered by the Championship
Committee to defend the National Title here tonight to comply with the
30 Day Defense Clause.

BW: Them's the breaks when you're champ, daddy, but the San Jose Shark
carries that title for a reason, Gordo, and it don't matter who's across
from him, because he's leaving with the strap.

GM: We have been informed that Marcus Broussard was given the privilege
of picking his opponent for tonight, and he's selected Kendall Stanton,
from right here in Denton County, Texas!

BW: The opportunity of a lifetime for Kendall Stanton, baby, in his
infinite wisdom Marcus Broussard has granted him this shot, so now he's
gotta make it count. Kendall Stanton, daddy, destiny is at your door!

GM:  That's coming up in our Power Hour Main Event later tonight but
before we get to that, we've got many of the AWA's top stars in action
right here tonight as well!  Let's kick things off in a big way with
"Showtime" Rick Marley in action!

[Cut up to the ring where Melissa Cannon stands in the center, mic in
hand.]

MC: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one
fall with a ten minute time limit.  Already in the ring, introducing
first, from Stone Mountain, Georgia

"Big Bad" Barry Wolfe!

And his opponent...

[The arena lights dim for a five count as a hush spreads across the
arena, broken by the opening line...]

#This ain't a song for the broken hearted...

MC:  Hailing from Miami, Florida... standing 5'10 and weighing in
tonight at 215 pounds...

He is "SHOWTIME"... RICK MARRRRRLEY!

[As "It's My Life" by Bon Jovi begins to play over the PA system, the
audience sees "Showtime" Rick Marley making his way to the ring.  The
fair skinned light heavyweight has his long dark hair pulled back in a
pony tail and wears a midnight blue set of long legged trunks with the
word "Showtime" stitched across the butt.  Marley pauses about 15 feet
from the ring, looking around the crowd giving him a warm reaction...

...and sprints the rest of the way, sliding under the bottom rope.  He
immediately climbs to the second rope, raising both hands in the
direction of the crowd as they cheer.]

GM: Rick Marley is cleared to wrestle and ready to go after the nasty
bruised larynx that he received at the hands of Adrian Freeman, The
Russians, Stevie Scott, and...well...at this point a fair percentage of
the locker room, Bucky.

BW: Well, if you stick your nose in where it don't belong, it's
gonna get bloodied, daddy!  That's all that happened to the jumpin' bean
out there...

GM: We're talking about a throat injury, Bucky, not a bloody nose.  This
could have been career ending...life threatening even!

BW: If he can't take the heat, he shouldn't be in the kitchen.

GM: Well...here's the bell and we're underway.  Marley is giving up
about four inches and almost thirty pounds to Wolfe.  Throw in that
healing neck and he's going to need to keep moving.

[Marley hops down off the ropes as the bell rings and moves in on the
larger man.  Locking up in a collar and elbow tie up, Wolfe quickly
pushes Marley back into the turnbuckle, Michael Meekley is calling for a
break...and Wolfe holds up his hands...and slaps "Showtime" hard across
the face!]

BW: That'll teach the runt some respect!

GM: Barry Wolfe just slapped the taste out of his mouth, and look at
Marley!  The dark haired cruiserweight is just checking his lip and
glaring at the bigger man...

[Marley moves in for another collar and elbow tie up, but this time
quicky turns to a side headlock.  Wolfe sends Marley off the ropes and
ducks his head.  Marley charges in and turns at the last minute, ducking
his shoulder and backflipping himself over Wolfe as he goes for a back
body drop.]

GM: What a move by Marley...he's off the far ropes and...flying
headscissors takedown sends the big man to the mat!

BW: I still think that's some sort of choke hold, Daddy.  Ain't no way
a pipsqueak like Marley should be able to take down a Texas sized man
like Wolfe.

GM: He's from Georgia, Bucky.

[Wolfe is quickly to his feet, charging in only to be taken down by an
armdrag takedown.  He's back in again, with the same result.  A third
time he gets caught in a falling hip toss that sends him hard onto his
back.]

GM: And they've picked up the pace, and Barry Wolfe doesn't like it one
bit!  He's sliding to the outside and pounding on the ring apron in
frustration as Marley crouches down and gestures for him to get back
into the ring!

BW: This is a brilliant strategy, Gordo!  Wolfe knows that Marley needs
to keep things moving faster if he wants to win, so he'll just slow it
all down now to bring the match back into something more his speed.

[Michael Meekley orders Marley back to the far corner and begins a count
on Barry Wolfe as the dangerous journeyman from Stone Mountain argues
loudly with the official as Marley starts clapping his hands.]

GM: Marley starts clapping his hands and the fans are joining in as
Wolfe hops up onto the apron and turns to scream at the fans...and
Marley has had a long enough wait!  "Showtime" quickly moves over
towards Wolfe...oh!  And gets a thumb in his eye for his trouble!

BW: That'll show him for being a big cheater.  I knew I smelled a rat in
that guy!

[Wolfe quickly moves through the ropes, sending Marley crashing to the
canvas with a big clothesline, then putting the boots to the smaller
man.  Wolfe stays on top of Marley dropping an elbow across his sternum,
then rolling over for a quick cover...

1!!!!



and a quick kickout.]

GM: It'll take more than that to put Marley down on the mat for a three
count.

BW: He should try roach spray.

[Wolfe grabs a handful of hair and brings Marley to his feet, hitting a
big right hand, then a head butt that turns the smaller man's knees to
rubber, allowing the Georgian to scoop him up and plant him back down
with a body slam, quickly followed by a knee drop to Marley's head.]

GM: "Showtime" is in a world of hurt here today as Barry Wolfe is taking
the fight right to him...he picks Marley up by the hair once again and
locks on a front chancery...Wolfe lifts for a vertical suplex...NO!

BW: More cheating!

GM: Marley countered the suplex attempt with the Rewrite reverse DDT!
Both men are down on the mat as Micheal Meekley starts the mandatory ten
count.

BW: I'd accept a double count out loss for Marley.  That seems fair.

[Meekley reaches seven before Marley comes to his hands and knees...and
Wolfe pulls himself upright on the ropes.  Both men orient themselves
and move towards one another, trading punches in the middle of the
ring.]

GM: And now a pier six brawl has broken out in the middle of the ring!
Marley is landing two punches for every one of Wolfe's, but the bombs
that the big man is throwing as twice as effective!

BW: This isn't the kind of fight that Marley can win...Wolfe's got him
right where he wants him.

[Wolfe staggers Marley with a stiff left jab, then throws a big
roundhouse right that Marley ducks, spinning Wolfe around.]

GM: Wolfe misses with that big right hand....CASTING CALL!  Marley hit
the Casting Call Superkick out of nowhere and floored Barry Wolfe!

BW: NO!

[Marley brings Wolfe back to his feet and...]

GM: Marley sets him up...LIMELIGHT!  He hit the Limelight!  Marley
with the cover!  1...2...3!

BW: Not again!

[Marley staggers up to his feet, his hand raised by Meekly.]

MC: Your winner of this match in five minutes and forty two
seconds..."Showtime" Rick Marley!

GM: Marley's on his way over to join us now...

BW: Be-still my beating heart.

[Marley arrives at the announce position a bit out of breath and nods
tersely in greeting to Gordon Myers...and attempting to ignore Bucky
Wilde.  Marley seems to be slightly irritated at the moment, looking
around him in irritation]

GM: Rick Marley, another impressive win here in Dallas over the veteran
"Big Bad" Barry Wolfe.

BW: You managed to steal another one from a more deserving competitor.

[Marley glances briefly over at Bucky, shaking his head slightly before
answering.  His voice is still raw, but less so than in previous weeks.]

RM: Y'know Bucky, under normal circumstances I'd pause long enough to
offer you some banter before I moved onto the main event...but not this
time.  Not today.  Ever since Memorial Day I've had one thing on my
mind: getting even with the scum that tried to put me down and
out...each and every one of them wrote out checks that they can't cash.

Freeman.

Dufrense.

The Russians.

Scott.

And now we get to add the name of our esteemed champion to the list.

That's right Broussard, you're nothing new...you don't even get top
billing, belt or no.  You're just another lowlife scavenger that tried
to take their shot to derail "Showtime" from the tracks.

But the lot of you forgot one thing: I'm not just out there for me. 
I've got a whole building full of people...I've got thousands in their
living rooms at home...all of 'em are pulling for me.  Me.  The Human
Highlight Reel.  The Saturday Night Special  "Showtime" Rick Marley.

I"m not gonna let a neck injury stop me again.  It's gonna take more
than a bunch of scary Russians to convince me not to beat my revenge
into each an every one of those guys...and the road to that bit of
justice starts on Independence Day.

I get my hands on Scott, Freeman and Dufrense, and so does Kentucky's
Pride.

[Marley offers a slight smirk and shrugs.]

RM: All in all it's not gonna be a good day to be a bad guy.

[Nodding to Myers, Marley heads off camera without another word.]

GM:  Rick Marley is focused - he's ready - and that six man tag team
match next weekend at The Battle of Dallas is going to be explosive! 
Fans, don't go away, we'll be right back!

[The camera holds on Gordon and Bucky for a moment before fading to
black.

After a moment, we fade back up on a very long shot of the exterior of a
pretty dingy looking building.]

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

"Of your friends and family seeing you on television?"

[And just a little closer, revealing a red, white, and blue sign that
reads "AWA Combat Corner."]

"Well, now you can make all your dreams come true by signing up today at
the AWA Combat Corner - the official training school for the American
Wrestling Alliance!"

[We cut to the interior of the building where we can see lots of
standard gym equipment surrounding a very basic wrestling ring.  There
are people lifting weights, running on treadmills, and of course,
working out in the ring.]

"With the very best trainers in the business, the AWA Combat Corner is
the most-equipped training facility to get you in shape and get you in
the ring in the shortest amount of time!"

[Cut into the ring where Todd Michaelson is barking out instructions.]

"With former World Champion Todd Michaelson leading the classes, you can
guarantee that you will be prepared for in-ring action upon graduation
and with the AWA expanding by the day, you will have a place to work on
Day One!"

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

"So, stop by the Combat Corner today... call our offices... visit our
website... and let them know that you want to be the next AWA Superstar!
You want to be the future of the business!

You want to wrestle!"

[Fade to a graphic that has all the info on the AWA Combat Corner.  We
freeze there for a moment...

...and then fade back up on the announce desk.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  As we mentioned at the top of our show, the
eyes of the wrestling world will be focused right back here in Dallas
next weekend for the big event here on WKIK television and one very big
reason for that is the big grudge match going down between Tumaffi and
Ricky Royal.

BW:  That's right, Gordo.  It seems like these two have been warring for
months now and it finally is going to come to a head right here in seven
days.  I just can't wait.

GM:  The ongoing rivalry between Tumaffi and Royal has heated up even
further in recent weeks as Ricky Royal declared following Memorial Day
Mayhem that he will NEVER allow Tumaffi to send another competitor out
on a stretcher.  In fact, it was right here two weeks ago when Royal
actually physically intervened himself in Tumaffi's match to prevent him
from injuring young Cal Casey.  Tumaffi won the match via
disqualification but that wasn't good enough for him.

BW:  You gotta understand, daddy.  For a man... a beast... like Tumaffi,
a DQ win is almost a loss.  He likes pinfalls.  He likes beating a man
into submission.  He likes knockouts.  And he especially likes sending
men out of the building on a stretcher.  Ricky Royal deprived him of
that last Saturday Night Wrestling and I would not want to be Ricky
Royal when Tumaffi catches up to him.

GM:  Tumaffi has refused to speak with any AWA announcer since the DQ
victory.  But our sources say he was irate backstage and destroyed a
locker room when he got back there.  A dangerous situation, indeed, for
whoever crosses his path.  Well, let's see how Tumaffi responds this
week, as he's scheduled to face the young rookie Brandon Pearle in our
next contest.

[We cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first, now entering the ring area...

*thump*

[Melissa drops the mic and heads for cover, because not only is Tumaffi 
not waiting for instructions, he is not even waiting for his opponent to
 reach the ring.  He whacks Pearle from behind with a running chop, 
head-butts him... holding the young man's long blonde hair to keep him 
from falling... and then using that hair to send him face-first into the
 ringpost!

		* C L O N G ! *

Pearle drops like a rock, and Tumaffi stomps on him like a wild man!]

BW: How's THAT for a response?

GM: THIS IS RIDICULOUS!  The match hasn't begun!  No one's even gotten
into the ring!  Tumaffi can't do this!

BW: Yeah?  Go tell him that.

[Tumaffi bellows in rage as he picks up Pearle in bodyslam position,
carries him near the steel ringpost, and runs headlong into it, crushing
Pearle's back against the metal post!  He then drops straight down,
powerslamming the kid into the barely-padded concrete with all four
hundred pounds!

As if it would help, the timekeeper starts ringing the bell.]

*DING*DING*DING*DING*DING*DING*DING*DING*

GM: STOP THIS!  There is no match!  Tumaffi is trying to bury this kid!

BW: Trying?!  Doesn't look like he's having to try real hard, Gordo!

[Tumaffi lifts Brandon up, and the kid is out of it.  He headbutts him
three  times, holding him up with one hand like he were a stress-relief
doll.  Tumaffi then carries Pearle over to the table at which Gordon and
Bucky stand, and  unceremoniously slams the kid onto it!  Bucky bails
out (as he always does when Tumaffi comes to the interview area) as
Tumaffi waves Gordon over.]

GM: Tumaffi!  Why?  The match never even begun!  You never even let...

[Gordon's words end here, as Tumaffi's booming bass voice cuts him off.]

Tumaffi: WHAT PART OF VENGEANCE DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!  When does
vengeance wait for ceremony?  For the ringing of bells, and for the
attentions of tiny, insignificant men?!

[Upon saying that, Tumaffi breaks away abruptly from Gordon, going
face-to-face with the referee that had come up behind him to admonish
him.  The referee, seeing the Samoan suddenly jump in his face and
glaring from mere inches away, wisely shuts up and backs off.  Tumaffi
continues to glare as Gordon regains control of the mic.]  

GM: Vengeance?  Vengeance on WHO?  This is not Ricky Royal!

[Gordon looks over at the unconscious young man whose broken body
inhabits his announce table, and shakes his head sadly.]

GM: Look at him, Tumaffi!  LOOK at him!  This is Brandon Pearle, a
twenty-two year old kid out of Tennessee.  All he wanted was to come up
here and wrestle and make a living, he never wronged you!  This young
man has a family... A FAMILY!  LOOK AT HIM, DAMMIT!

[Gordon shows an uncharacteristic temper, and Tumaffi slowly turns his
glare onto Gordon.  Behind Gordon, Bucky's eyes grow wide as he mouths a
two word epithet that rhymes with "oh, crit" as the Samoan monster
closes in on the tiny, angry announcer.]

GM: I don't care anymore!  You don't scare me!  You're a big bully, and
you CRIPPLE these kids!  And for what?!  Is it to get back at Ricky
Royal?  Or is it because you can't DO this to Ricky Royal?  

[Bucky actually moves in, and tries to pull Gordon away.  But he flees,
shrieking, as Tumaffi reaches out, and grabs Gordon by the tie!]

Tumaffi: SILENCE!

GM: What?!  Are you going to cripple me like you did a helpless kid?!

Tumaffi: No!  Tumaffi does not lower himself to destroy the
non-combatants!  Only those who would dare enter combat with the great
Tumaffi are to be annihilated!  But know that Tumaffi will not tolerate
further... FIGHTING... words, Gordon Myers!

[Gordon seems to understand the implications, and as Tumaffi releases
his tie, he backs away.]

Tumaffi: Did not Ricky Royal conspire to cause Tumaffi to, by your
ridiuclous standards, LOSE?  But do you not know that your narrow
concepts of 'win' and 'lose' are as nothing to great Tumaffi?!  And you
wish me to look at the boy!  Look at him whom I have broken!  Him whose
life I may well have brought to ruin!  He who was mad enough to sign a
contract to face me, and you expect me to feel SYMPATHY for him because
he did not know what that meant?!  Because he did not know what it means
to LOSE?

[Tumaffi grabs Pearle by the hair, and lifts his head up, waving the
camera in to get a closeup.  He is bleeding - a slight trickle from the
corner of his mouth - drooling, and softly moaning.]

Tumaffi: THIS IS WHAT IT MEANS TO LOSE, RICKY ROYAL!  Until you do THIS
to the great Tumaffi, you cannot claim to have defeated me!  THIS IS HOW
YOU DEFEAT YOUR ENEMIES!

[Spitefully, the big Samoan spikes the back of the young man's head down
onto the table.]

Tumaffi: Tumaffi thinks that he will have many useful lessons to teach
his... family... from his wheelchair some day.  

[Tumaffi walks over to Melissa, who is quite understandably mortified
that she has drawn his attention for some reason.]

Tumaffi: Tumaffi will magnanimously permit you to declare me the winner
now.

[Melissa doesn't even question him... she picks up the mic, and shakily
says whatever she has to, to get him away.]

MC: Your winner... TUMAFFI!

[And with that, Tumaffi leaves.  A medical team comes to peel poor
Brandon Pearle off of the announce table.]

BW: Gordo... don't mistake this for, well, anything.  But please, man,
please... never, NEVER do that again!

GM: He's the worst bully I've ever seen, and I can't wait until somebody
gives him the kind of loss that he says he respects.

BW: Yeah?  Don't hold your breath...

GM:  Fans, we need to get this under control.  We'll be right back.

[The camera holds its shot as the medical team keeps working just before
we fade to black...

...and then fade back up on a black screen with the AWA logo splashed
across it.]

"Join your favorite stars of the American Wrestling Alliance throughout
the state of Texas this week for exclusive meet-and-greet sessions."

[A scrolling list of names and locations flash by in white text:

Rick Marley and Kentucky's Pride
North Dallas Spectrum - Dallas, TX
June 29

Paul Driscoll and Rough N Ready
West Dallas Galleria - Dallas, TX
June 30

Sweet Daddy Williams and Mark Shaw
Dallas Ford - Dallas, TX
July 2

Werewolf Gregorson, Despair, and Ricky Royal
Harris Chevrolet - Dallas, TX
July 4

The names end, leaving just the AWA logo behind.]

"All the stars of the AWA are comin' your way so don't miss 'em!"

[And with that, we fade back to black...

...and then back up on the AWA Saturday Night Wrestling announce desk
where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, fans, here in the
WKIK Studios.  You know, Bucky, tag team wrestling is hotter than ever
here in the American Wrestling Alliance and with all the rumors
regarding a National Tag Team Championship being introduced soon, every
tag match is so very important.

BW:  You got that right, daddy, because you just don't know how the
Committee will decide to crown the first champs.  It could be a
tournament.  It could be a tournament.  It could be a match between two
top contenders.  You just don't know so you gotta be on your game at all
times.

GM:  One of the teams who're looking to compete for those National Tag
Team Titles when they're introduced is the big, tough team of Rough N
Ready.  Let's go up to the ring and see them in action!

[Cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

MC: The following contest is a tag team match scheduled for one fall.
Currently in the ring, from parts unknown, at a combined weight of 480
pounds... the team of Mr. Anonymous and Mr. E!

[Two masked men stand in the ring, each of them raising a fist as their
names are announced.

The opening strands of Deep Purple's "Knocking At Your Back Door" kick
in, the chords seemingly building anticipation for what is to come. And
once the chords reach their crescendo and the drums kick in, that's when
Rough N Ready emerges from the entranceway.

Dave Cooper wears black wrestling trunks, matching kneepads and white
wrestling boots, and also wears a black T-shirt that says "Rough N
Ready" in white lettering. Eric Matthew Somers wears a black singlet and
white wrestling boots. Standing in between them is their manager, Sarah
Sharpe, dressed in black pants and matching jacket and a white T-shirt.]

MC: And their opponents, accompanied to the ring by their manager, Sarah
Sharpe, hailing from Albuquerque, New Mexico, at a combined weight of
615 pounds, here are Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers, the team of
Rough N Ready!

The trio makes their way to the ring, Sarah walking in front with Dave
and Eric side by side, Dave with a serious look on his face and Eric
with a mischievous grin. They reach the ringside area, where Dave is the
first to ascend the ring steps and duck between the ropes, followed by
Eric, as Sarah takes her place at ringside.]

GM: Rough N Ready set to go in tag team action... they are currently not
scheduled to wrestle at The Battle of Dallas, at least not in tag team
action.

BW: Wasn't their manager talking about how good she was at making sure
her team got matches? N ow whose fault is it that they don't have a
match?

GM: I really don't think it has anything to do with that... just that
the show in Dallas is already quite filled with matches. Remember that
some of these rivalries in AWA have been brewing for some time and that
Rough N Ready are still relatively new to AWA.

BW: Sure... make excuses for the woman, who would be better off in the
kitchen at her age.

GM: Bucky, that's enough!

[The bell rings as Mr. Anonymous, the masked man dressed in black, steps
forward and approaches Dave Cooper.]

GM: Cooper and Anonymous starting things off...

BW: Who is this Mr. Anonymous guy?

GM: I have no idea... a lockup between these two men...

BW: Wait a minute... how do we even know that's a man under that mask?

GM: Will you stop, Bucky? Cooper with a scoop and a slam and the masked
man rolls to the corner... he seems a bit surprised.

BW: Well, I guess you now know why he's anonymous.

GM: Why is that?

BW: I wouldn't want to show my face if I got slammed by a geezer so
easily.

GM: Bucky, stop it. Cooper moving forward, but the masked man drives a
shot to the midsection. Now to his feet and going for a right hand...
but Cooper blocks it and there's a kick to the midsection.

BW: Snap suplex by Cooper... amazing his back didn't give out at his
age.

GM: Anonymous pulled off the canvas as Cooper now goes behind him...
abdominal stretch applied in the center of the ring.

BW: We have incoming.

GM: The man known as Mr. E runs into the ring... nails Cooper with a
shot from behind! But here comes the big man, Eric Matthew Somers, into
the ring!

BW: Well, so much for Plan A, huh, Mr. E?

GM: Somers with a clothesline to take the other masked man down!
Meanwhile, Cooper has Anonymous backed into the corner... Somers
dragging E up and backing him into the opppsite corner. Now a pair of
Irish whips, and the masked men collide in the center of the ring!

BW: I guess that does it for Plan B as well... if there was a Plan B.

[The masked men roll out of the ring to regroup as Somers returns to his
corner.]

GM: And these masked men haven't had much luck against the veteran duo.

BW: Veteran duo... stop being so politically correct and say it...
they're old timers.

GM: They may have logged many years in the ring, but they've proven they
still have what it takes to be among the best in AWA... and now,
Anonymous rolling back into the ring and going for a kick... but Cooper
blocks it.

BW: The masked man trying to swing at Cooper, but there's a dragon screw
legwhip! He's now trying to apply a scorpion deathlock!

[The masked man squirms into the ropes, and referee Marty Meekly calls
for the break. Cooper complies, prompting Mr. Anonymous to roll to his
corner and tag out.]

GM: Mr. E, the man dressed in red, will now try his luck... both men
lockup, but it's Cooper with a knee to the midsection... now lifts onto
his shoulder and there's a powerslam!

BW: Cooper tagging out... I guess he needs a nap or something.

GM: Bucky, please stop. Somers entering the ring and now Mr. E backing
off into the corner.

BW: Is it time to make the no time outs in wrestling joke?

GM: I think you just did, Bucky... Mr. E getting to his feet as Somers
corners him... and he's extending a hand.

[The masked man looks to the crowd briefly, before taking Somers' hand
and a handshake is exchanged.]

GM: Well, looks like Somers wanting to show... wait a minute! Somers
leaps forward and drives a shoulder right into the midsection of the
masked man!

BW: What is it with this Somers guy... play nice, then turn around and
pick on the poor guy?

GM: Somers with a headbutt that staggers Mr. E and now pulls him
forward... lifts him up and powerbombs him to the canvas!

BW: He drops down for a cover... one... two... but it's Mr. Anonymous
breaking it up!

GM: And that brings Cooper into the ring... big lariat knocks Anonymous
down!

[Anonymous rolls under the ropes as Somers drags Mr. E up, pulling one
of his arms back, and then delivering a heart punch!]

GM: Devastating blow by Somers! And now he grabs the masked man and tags
Cooper back in!

BW: Cooper to the second rope... looks like it's time for a little
Roughousing!

GM: Somers lifts Mr. E up... a big twisting slam, and Cooper comes down
with a kneedrop to the skull! And Cooper covers... one... two... three!

[Fans cheer as Sarah Sharpe climbs into the ring, standing between her
charges and raising their arms.]

MC: The winners of the match, Rough N Ready!

GM: Rough N Ready continue their winning ways here in AWA... and when
you look at these two men, you have two likely top challengers for any
tag team championship that may be created.

BW: I'm sure the Russians will have something to say about that, Gordon.

GM: True, and so would the team of Werewolf Gregorson and Despair...

BW: Not after The Battle In Dallas, Gordon... those two will be lucky to
walk under their own power after the Russians get done with them.

[The Rough N Ready members have climbed through the ropes and now make
their way over to the announcers position.]

GM: Welcome, Rough N Ready... another big victory for the two of you.

DC: Gordon, it's certainly nice to get another win, but would be nicer
is to get a taste of some of the bigger competition here in the AWA...
see, Eric and myself have been watching, and we are certainly impressed
with the likes of Werewolf Gregorson and Despair.... with City Jack and
Tin Can Rust... and yes, regardless of what you think of the Russians,
you have to respect their abilities. And even though it appears Ben
Waterson has decided he no longer cares about the Upper Crust, I'll give
those two their due... they put up a good fight.

EMS: Of course, in the end, Gordo, it was Dave and myself coming out on
top. They may be nice guys and all that, but Dave and I... heh... we're
not nice guys.

DC: [slight grin at that remark] But to get to the point, Gordon, we see
these other teams here in AWA and we are looking forward to the day that
we step into the ring with those teams and show everyone that, we may be
old, we may be a bit rough around the edges, but one thing is still for
certain.

EMS: We know damn well how to kick some ass!

BW: So then why aren't you booked for Battle in Dallas... are you just
gonna be there for the show?

SS: Bucky, Rough N Ready may not be scheduled for the next show... and
honestly, you can thank Ben Waterson for that after he decided to leave
Upper Crust high and dry... but mark my words, we will be there. We're
going to be there to get a better look at the rest of the competition
that is here in AWA... and we just might have a little offer for any of
those teams.

GM: Offer? What are you talking about?

SS: Gordon, I know very well that the teams here in AWA have some scores
to settle... but after Battle in Dallas, I'm thinking some of them just
might have some open dates. So I've got a proposition... and this goes
not just to those teams here in AWA, but any team who may happen to come
along. Rough N Ready has an open contract, and all I'm asking is for
somebody to sign it.

GM: An open contract for anyone... well, what if, for example, the
Russians decided to sign it?

SS: Like Dave said, whether you like them or not, you have to respect
their abilities. But if they were the ones to take us up on the open
contract... and the same applies to anyone else... these two men here
will have one thing in mind and that's proving who is destined to be the
best tag team the AWA will have to offer.

EMS: And also to leave whoever it is black and blue, Gordo... sound like
fun to you?

[He then slaps Bucky on the shoulder, even though those words were
directed to Gordon... Bucky takes a step back and gives Somers a look.]

EMS: Hey, Bucky, maybe it's time to switch to decaf.

[He chuckles as Cooper and Sharpe just grin and the trio then departs to
the back.  Gordon is chuckling as well as he speaks again.]

GM:  Rough N Ready are certainly proving to be both of those things as
they score another notch in the win column and have laid out an open
challenge to anyone tag team in the AWA - heck, any tag team in all of
wrestling to face them in tag team action.  Now that's the kind of
spirit we like here in the Alliance, Bucky.

BW:  That wasn't funny, Gordo.

GM:  Heheh... I beg to differ.

BW:  Next time, I'll let Tumaffi eat you.

GM:  I'm sure you will.  Fans, we're going to keep the action going here
but before we go, a quick reminder, before we go off the air tonight,
the Championship Committtee will announce the ten top contenders for the
National Title who are not already scheduled for The Battle Of Dallas. 
So, again, before we go off the air tonight, we will know the ten men
who will battle next Saturday in a over-the-top-rope battle royal for
the right to face the National Champion for the gold in the Main Event
next weekend.  That makes every match on this show so very important for
those men who are not already scheduled to compete - someone like the
man in our next match, "The Natural" Adam Rogers.  Let's go up to the
ring.

[Cut back to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit. Introducing first, already in the ring at this time,
standing six feet tall and weighing in at 224 pounds... from Dallas,
Texas... Scott Cruise!

[The new "enhancement talent" member draws indifference from the crowd.]

MC: And his opponent... he hails from Naples, Florida... standing 6'3
and weighing in at 243 pounds...

He is THE NATURAL...

AAAAADAM ROOOOGERS!

[The heavy opening guitar chords of "Smoke on the Water" by Deep Purple
rip out over the PA system, signaling the entrance of former World
Champion "The Natural" Adam Rogers. The blond-haired Floridian with an
impressive physique steps into the arena, all business as he walks to
the ring.]

GM: And here comes the former World Champion ready to make his second
appearance in an AWA ring after successfully debuting with a victory
over Miguel Cortez here two weeks ago.

BW: Not exactly the toughest competition to make your return against.

GM: Well, after a few years off, even a wrestler like Adam Rogers needs
a little time to readjust. There's the bell, and we're underway in this
one as the two competitors circle around into a collar and elbow
tie-up...and Cruise quickly applying an armwringer.

BW: This Cruise is supposed to be a fast one, they tell me. Gonna try to
use that speed, daddy!

GM: Perhaps, but his speed provides no counter for that, as Rogers
powers out of the hold and turns it into a hammerlock takedown. The
former EMWC World Champion now applying pressure to that arm as Cruise
scrambles back to a vertical base.

BW: Cruise better stay on his feet. Kid's too scrawny to scrap it out
with Rogers.

GM: Cruise trying to gain some leverage to escape the now-standing
hammerlock, but Rogers able to position himself perfectly to keep the
youngster from Dallas from getting anywhere. Cruise drops to a knee now
and flips Rogers over his shoulder...Rogers quickly to his feet and
Cruise with a dropkick...but Rogers saw it coming and easily steps out
of the line of fire.

BW: Rookie mistake right there, daddy. Cruise telegraphed that move so
loud, they coulda heard it in Portland.

GM: Rogers pulls Cruise up, hooks him and takes him down in a rolling
reverse cradle...one, two, two count only as Cruise sneaks a shoulder
up. Rogers already on his feet and waiting for the youngster, there's a
side headlock takedown as "The Natural" stays in control of things early
on.

[Cruise, however, counters by pulling Rogers into a headscissors, which
doesn't last long. Rogers is able to turn Cruise onto his back, then
flips over and lands on top of Cruise in a pinning predictament.]

GM: Great counter by Rogers...two count as again, Cruise able to get the
shoulder up.

[Both men quickly get to their feet, but Cruise's speed allows him to
get in a quick left-handed jab that staggers Rogers backward.]

GM: And now Cruise getting in some offense...a pair of jabs drives
Rogers backward.

BW: All that amateur background can't stop a few pops in the chops,
daddy!

[Cruise grabs an arm and sends Rogers for the ride, then hits the
opposite ropes for momentum...]

GM: Here comes Cruise with a cross-body press...caught in mid-air by
Rogers! The Natural too strong for Cruise and now the youngster finds
himself in a bad spot.

BW: You can say that again.

[Indeed you can, as Rogers holds him momentarily as if thinking over
what move to use. Finally, he decides on a standing powerslam.]

GM: Right into the mat! Rogers with the big blow he was looking for, now
let's see how he capitalizes. He quickly pulls Cruise up, rear waistlock
applied...and there it is! 

BW: Release German suplex!  One of Rogers' signature moves and he folded
him up like an accordian, daddy!

GM: And now Rogers grabs Cruise's legs, steps inside...and rolls him
over into... he calls this the Natural Selection!

[Rogers pulls back on the Scorpion Deathlock maneuver, and Cruise begins
tapping the canvas almost immediately. Meekly taps Rogers on the
shoulder to let him know the outcome, and the Natural quickly releases
the hold and raises his arms into the air.]

MC: Your winner of the match, in a time of two minutes and thirty-seven
seconds...

The Natural...ADDAAAAAM ROOOGEEEEERRRRSSSSS!

[Cut to the commentators' table where Myers and Wilde are standing.]

GM: So Rogers gets his second win here in the AWA in his return to
wrestling, and hopefully we'll be joined now by the former World
Champion.

[This time, Rogers does come over for his scheduled interview as he
walks into the camera view.]

GM: And here he is now...Adam, congratulations on another win. It must
feel good to be back in the ring again.

[Adam smiles wryly.]

AR: It does feel good, Gordon. When you get this sport in your blood,
it's hard to get it out. I've missed it, and I'm proud to be in a place
like the AWA that focuses on wrestling instead of what we get now in so
many other places.

GM: Now, two weeks ago, you were finally able to speak face-to-face with
Marcus Broussard, the AWA National Champion. Can you fill us in on that
situation?

[Rogers shrugs.]

AR: You know about as much as I do, Gordon. Marcus, for whatever reason,
still seems to be avoiding me. The man's got to choose his own path just
like everyone else...but he's still so new to this sport, I don't think
he's considering the consequences. Unfortunately, experience may be his
only teacher if he keeps shutting me out.

GM: Everyone knows you are a former World Champion and that winning
championships is something that's very important to you given your
lineage. Are you a contender for Broussard's AWA National Championship?

[Smirk from the Natural.]

AR: Well, Gordon...so far I've had two matches in the AWA, which is the
total number of matches I've had in the last three years. So calling me
a "contender" may be a little premature. That said, however, if the
opportunity presented itself to step into the ring with Marcus with the
National Title on the line? It'd take all the tricks Broussard has up
his sleeve to keep me from walking out with more gold to add to my
collection.

[Rogers nods at Gordon and makes his exit.]

GM:  There you have it, fans.  Adam Rogers is back in action and perhaps
better than ever.  And you can bet the San Jose Shark has his eyes glued
to see what the Natural does next.

BW:  The student has surpassed the teacher, daddy.  If Rogers ever gets
a shot at Marcus, the whole world is going to find that out firsthand.

GM:  We'll see about that.  Fans, we'll be right back after this break
so don't go away!

[We fade to black...

...and then back up to a shot showing the logos of Pro Wrestling
Revolution, Sin City Wrestling, and Southern Championship Wrestling.]

"From Day One, the American Wrestling Alliance was determined to give
its fans the very best action available.  And on Day One, our video
library is officially open for business!"

[Cut to a closeup of the Sin City Wrestling logo.]

"Check out "High Profile" Darryl Styles on commentary.  See the Upper
Crust in action before they were the Upper Crust!"

[Now to the Southern Championship Wrestling logo.]

"Ricky Royal lit up the rings in SCW before he came to the AWA!  "Stars
and Stripes" Clayton Shaw was a SCW staple as well!"

[And then the PWR logo.]

"See Calisto Dufresne in action!  And don't forget the ever-dangerous
Kolya Sudakov!"

[Cut back to the wide shot of all three logos.]

"Events from all three promotions are available NOW exclusively through
the AWA website via DVD or download!  So, be the first on the block to
be an AWA expert and check out all of this great action today!"

[Fade to black...

...and then back up on the announce team.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  All night long, we've been giving you a
preview of the action that will go down here in the WKIK Studios next
Saturday night as the AWA presents The Battle Of Dallas.  Earlier
tonight, we saw "Showtime" Rick Marley in action - of course, Marley
will be teaming with Tin Can Rust and City Jack, the team of Kentucky's
Pride next weekend to take on Stevie Scott, Calisto Dufresne, and the
man who we're about to see in singles action for the first time on AWA
television, Adrian Freeman.

BW:  That's right, daddy.  Freeman wrestled on the recent tour but this
will be his AWA singles match TV debut and I, for one, can't wait to see
it.  I've heard good things.

GM:  Let's go up to the ring and find out!

[We cut to the ring, where Melissa Cannon is standing with the masked
luchador Lord Azteca.]

MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a ten minute
time limit. Introducing first, already in the ring, from Tijuana,
Mexico... Lord Azteca.

[The red-and-gold clad luchador throws an arm in the air, to little
reaction from the crowd.]

MC: And his opponent....

[The opening chords of "Try Honesty" by Billy Talent begin to play. The
"Subzero" Adrian Freeman runs out to the jeers of the WKIK Studio
audience.  Freeman pauses just inside the entrance, sneering at the
jeering fans before sliding into the ring.]

MC: ...from Sydney, Australia... "Subzero" Adrian Freeman!

GM: Last time on this show, we saw footage from the tour where Freeman
assaulted Marley, going after the injured throat.  Fortunately, Marley
was rescued by Tin Can Rust.  So, like it or not, Adrian Freeman now
finds himself hip deep in this war.

BW: Fortunately? Freeman was giving Marley what he deserved for
betraying Callisto Dufrense.  He's been after Marley for weeks - that's
his true target but I'm sure he'll take the time out of his schedule to
slap those old fossils in Kentucky's Pride around too.

GM: Oh come on...

[Freeman stares the masked man down intently. The bell rings and the two
rush into a lockup. Freeman positions his left leg behind Azteca's and
sweeps it away, pushing the luchador to the ground. Freeman maintains
his grasp on Lord Azteca's hands, using his leverage to push them down
and push his shoulders to the mat. Marty Meekly goes on to count the
pin.]

GM: A one count - and Lord Azteca forces the shoulder up. Freeman's not
going to get a win that easily.

BW: He's just wearing him down, daddy.

GM: This is our first opportunity to really see Freeman in action. The
only other televised match he's had here in the AWA was that battle
royal, which he didn't last too long in.

BW: Thanks to Rick Marley and his sneak attack.

[Freeman takes a mounted position and keeps control of Azteca's hands.
He forces his shoulders to the mat a few more times like that, but never
enough to garner even a two count. Adrian slides to the side and applies

a side headlock to the grounded Lord Azteca. The luchador groans as
Freeman wrenches back on the headlock.]

GM: Freeman using a very technical, mat-based style so far. It may not
be as flashy as one of our brawlers, or a high flyer like Rick Marley,
but Freeman is still in complete control here.

BW: And I can personally tell you how much a simple headlock, properly
applied, can hurt.

[Lord Azteca fights to his knees, but Freeman shifts so as to still
maintain the side headlock. The Australian stomps on the left arm of
Azteca as he releases the hold.  He swiftly transitions to an
armwringer, which he twists a few times.]

GM:  Freeman switches his focus to the arm of the luchador.

[A few fans start a small "BOR-ING!" chant which seems to annoy Freeman
greatly. He harshly pulls Azteca's right arm into a hammerlock.]

BW: Can you believe those people? They have no right to call this match
boring.

GM: The fans can say whatever they want, Bucky. And I highly doubt
Adrian Freeman wrestles to please the fans. He's targeting the arm right
now, focusing most of his offense on it.

[Lord Azteca twists out of the hammerlock and sends Freeman overhead
with an armdrag. However, Freeman pulls through and pulls the left arm
into a fujiwara armbar! Lord Azteca cries out in pain, flailing for the
ropes.]

GM: Armbar! Azteca could submit here if Freeman manages to hyperextend
the arm and sinch that in fully.

[Azteca gets a foot on the bottom rope. Marty Meekly instructs Freeman
to break, but the AUssie keeps the armbar applied. Meekly starts a
count, and Freeman finally releases on 4. He pulls Azteca up, traps the 
arms, and throws him overhead with a trapping suplex.]

BW: Right on his back!  Did you see that, daddy?

[Freeman turns Lord Azteca over to his back and grabs ahold of his
legs.]

GM: He's going for his signature Deep Freeze hold here. If he gets this
it's over.

[But Azteca rolls through, sending Freeman backfirst into the
turnbuckle. Lord Azteca kips up to his feet just as Freeman comes
running at him, catching him with a monkey flip. Freeman gets right back
up to his  feet, only to be knocked down by a dropkick. The crowd cheers
as the luchador motions to the top turnbuckle.]

GM: Lord Azteca making a comeback! Keeping Freeman off his game with
those fast-paced moves.

BW: It looks like he's going for something big!

[Lord Azteca climbs to the top rope, positioning himself carefully, and
takes a huge leap...


...flashbulbs popping for the splash...


...even as Azteca gets caught in midair by a Freeman lungblower.]

GM: Good grief! Did you see that maneuver? In mid-air no less.

BW: Sometimes high risk moves like that don't pay off. That's why
Freeman doesn't do 'em!

[Adrian Freeman drops the barely-standing Lord Azteca with an inverted
atomic drop. The luchador falls to the ground, clutching his crotch, as
Freeman swiftly turns him over into a boston crab. Azteca cries out in 
pain, even more so as Freeman kneels down and drives his knee into
Azteca's back.]

GM: The Deep Freeze! Freeman's signature submission hold, applied
perfectly.

[Lord Azteca swiftly taps. The bell rings.]

BW: And that's all she wrote!

MC: Your winner, at a time of five minutes and seven seconds...
"Subzero" Adrian Freeman!

["Try Honesty" plays again, as Freeman releases the hold and stands in
the ring, clearly proud of himself.  The audience seems no more
impressed than before.]

GM: Adrian Freeman, with a dominant victory over Lord Azteca in his
first singles match here in the AWA.

BW: Azteca looked good for a minute there, but Freeman had the answer.

GM: And it looks like he's about to join us here at ringside.

[Adrian Freman, a bit sweaty from his match, approaches Gordon and Bucky
at the commentary table.]

BW: Adrian, first off, congratulations on your victory.

AF: Congratulations? Why congratulate me when it was a foregone
conclusion?

GM: Mr. Freeman, you've had a lot of bad things to say lately about Rick
Marley. In fact, on our tour you attacked him when he was still
recovering from that throat injury. What could possibly motivate you to
do something like that?

AF: I warned all of you, didn't I? I told you I would wait until I had
the best opportuntiy to make Rick Marley pay. And when he's standing in
the ring with an injured throat, more focused on the Russians and  Scott
& Dufrense... what better time is there? This is what seperates me from
the Rick Marleys of the world. I use my intelligence. I choose my spots.

GM: Some would call that cowardice.

AF: You know what cowardice is? Cowardice is eliminating a man while his
back is turned. Cowardice is having some redneck interfere in a
one-on-one fight. Cowardice is needing two guys with you before you 
finally agree to face me in a match.

BW: Well, the sides will be even in that match, as you will be teaming
with Stevie Scott & Callisto Dufrense.

AF: I have to be honest, I don't know Scott & Dufrense very well. But
Rick Marley, you took their help, and then you betrayed them. Now, you
may think your throat is punishment for that. But your little injury? Is

barely the beginning of what we're going to do to you. After you step in
the ring with me, that throat will be the least of your worries. If you
have any sense, and I doubt you do, instead of bringing a one-legged 
man and that nobody Tin Can Rust with you, you'll bring some EMTs.

GM: You're making a lot of threats towards Rick Marley, but you have to
take into account that he is the number one ranked wrestler in the AWA,
whereas you aren't even in the top ten.

AF: Look past the hype, Gordo! All Marley has done is beaten a bunch of
nobodies and leeched off of more talented wrestlers like Callisto
Dufrense and Marcus Broussard. Meanwhile I've been given a tenth the 
opportunities he has. But when I make Rick Marley tap out in the middle
of the ring, everyone will be forced to acknowledge me as the best
athlete in the AWA. Rick Marley will be yesterday's news. And I can
guarantee that.

[Freeman heads backstage, ignoring the jeers of a few ringside fans.]

BW: There goes a very confident man.

GM: A very jealous man is more like it. Well, in that big six-man tag
next weekend he'll have his chance to prove everything he's been saying.
 And I'd wager if he somehow lives up to his word and makes Rick Marley
submit in the middle of the ring, he will launch himself into the Top
Ten Contenders list.

["Black" by Sevendust blasts out in the WKIK Studios.]

GM:  And speaking of the Top Ten Contenders list...

["Pistol" Paul Driscoll comes out to the announce desk. Driscoll is
dressed to wrestle, wearing dark green tights and knee pads, white boots
with black seams and a red star on the outsides. He also wears a denim
vest over top. He raises his hands to the crowd and runs a hand through
his short brown hair, making sweat and water fly everywhere.]

GM: Joining me at this time is "Pistol" Paul Driscoll, who is on the
bubble for the contenders battle royal at the Battle of Dallas. And
after a very successful road tour, I'd have to say that Paul Driscoll is
starting to shake off that ring rust he talked about before. Come on
over here Paul.

PD: Good t' see ya again, Gordy. How you doin' over there Bucky?

[Bucky just mumbles something and makes a face.]

PD: Good, good. Now I got me a match here in a couple o' seconds, but
before I go lemme tell ya this... a wise man once tol' me to never chase
a tuna sammich, but if a tuna sammich is givin' to ya it'd be downright
rude t' turn it away. Far as I'm concerned, ol' Marcus Broussard ain't
on my radar. He got his bidness up 'ere with a whole different bunch o'
people, an' right now me an' him got nothin' to say but hello an'
goodbye.

But if I get 'tween 'em ropes an' get to chuckin' people outta the
ring... why, they're gonna hand me 'at tuna sammich, Marcus. I'm gonna
get me a chance t' knock yer teeth down yer stinkin' throat an' take
that belt fer my own.

[Paul strokes his burgeoning beard and grins.]

PD: I ain't chasin' ya, Shark, but if I get ya served up to me on a
silver platter... why, that's just too good an opportunity t' turn down.
I know there's a rankin' system, an' I know that I'm on it but not real
high. But if I win me that battle royale, Gordon Myers, it won't take
but a split second fer me to find myself on top o' the _whole_ dagum
wrestlin' world. An' that's the kind o' thang 'at even ol' "Big Bucks"
over here can't never buy.

[With that, Driscoll sets off to the ring, as Gordon Myers sits back
down at the table.]

GM: A very optimistic, opportunistic Paul Driscoll right there, Bucky
Wilde.

BW: People is still standin' in awe of that brawl he had with Mark Shaw,
but that was dang near two month ago. You gotta make hay while the sun
is shining, daddy, and Paul Driscoll knows that.

GM: I can only imagine the look on the champion's face if a hard nosed
veteran like Paul Driscoll wins the opportunity for a title shot on our
nation's birthday weekend. Let's head up to Melissa for ring
introductions.

[Cut to Melissa Cannon, ready to rock and/or roll.]

MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit. Introducing first, from Chesapeake, Virginia, weighing in
tonight at 247 pounds... Gary Reid!

[Reid raises his hand to the crowd and gets a polite applause.]

GM: Gary Reid, a former champion in the Memphis area, trying to get
something going here in the AWA.

BW: Best of luck to you, friend, you might need it.

[Back in the ring.]

MC: His opponent, from Odessa, Texas... weighing in tonight at 263
pounds... "PISTOL" PAUL DRISCOOOOLLLLLLLL!

[Driscoll raises both hands to a nice ovation from the crowd, then takes
off his vest and throws it over the ropes.]

GM: This will be a nice warm up for Paul Driscoll, as he tries to enter
The Battle of Dallas with some momentum. But don't sell this Gary Reid
short, Buckthorn, because he's no pushover.

BW: I'm not sellin' nobody short, Gordo, I'm just sayin' that I've never
seen this man before.

GM: So?

BW: Who's payin' the bills, daddy? If it didn't happen on Saturday Night
Wrestling, it just didn't happen!

[The bell rings and both men shake hands, to a round of applause from
the crowd. Both men lockup, and Driscoll quickly wins that small battle,
tossing Reid off into the ropes.]

GM: Paul Driscoll wins that exchange, and now follows up with a right
hand. Another right hand, and Gary Reid seeks refuge in the corner.

[Reid goes into the corner and then jets out, taking Driscoll to the mat
with a double leg takedown. Reid springs back to his feet and bounces
off the ropes, but misses an elbow drop.]

GM: Driscoll dodges the elbow, and he's back on his feet...

"WHAAAACK!"

BW: Hello, baby!

GM: A bone crunching clothesline from "Pistol" Paul Driscoll, who has
been on target so far in this match. Do you think he's got a chance in
the battle royal, Bucky Wilde?

BW: I tell ya Gordo, I give the man a punchers chance, but anything more
than that I don't know. He ain't got that much momentum, daddy, and it's
hard to just make that stuff appear.

GM: Back to the action... Driscoll with a side headlock, squeezing down
on the neck of Gary Reid... this is where a man of Driscoll's strength
makes even the most simple moves effective, Bucky Wilde, he may well pop
Gary Reid's head off.

BW: Simple but effective's the name of the game, Gordo, you gotta make
sure everything counts.

[Reid manages to throw Driscoll off of him, into the ropes. The Texan
bounds off the far side and Gary hits the deck, then pops up and swings
with a wild clothesline that "Pistol" Paul ducks. He does not miss with
a picture perfect dropkick that hits Driscoll square in the kisser,
however.]

GM: What a dropkick by Gary Reid. That's a textbook offensive manuever
right there, Bucky Wilde. This man is making it a little more
competitive than you thought he would.

BW: Driscoll's gotta get the lead out, daddy, simple as that.

[Reid moves in and scores with an inverted atomic drop, then bounds off
the far ropes and leaps into action...]

GM: Paul Driscoll caught him in midair, and he's leading him back... oh
my, what a vicious turn of events. Paul Driscoll dropped Reid throat
first on the top rope, and he is almost in an altered state right now.

[Gary Reid clutches at his throat, and staggers back just as Paul
Driscoll unleashes a discus punch!]

BW: OHHH! GOODNIGHT NURSE!

GM: Arguably the best right hand in the business, and that may be all
for Gary Reid. Driscoll brings Reid to his feet now, into a fireman's
carry... and _down_ with the Death Valley Driver! Here's the cover...
one, two and three.


*DING DING DING!*


MC: Your winner of the match, in two minutes and nineteen seconds...

"PISTOL" PAUL DRISCOLL!!!

[The crowd cheers as Driscoll has his hand raised by Mickey Meekly. He
soaks in the cheers for a moment and then exits the ring, as referee
Meekly goes to help Gary Reid.]

BW: He sure as shootin' wasn't getting paid by the hour tonight, Gordo.

GM: A terrific win for Paul Driscoll, who is rejoining us here at the
desk. Mr. Driscoll, that was a terrific victory, as I just told Bucky a
moment ago.

[Driscoll wipes off his face with a towel, and pats Myers on the
shoulder.]

PD: Thanks Gordy, 'preciate the thought. I came back out here t' speak
'bout somethin' that caught my attention a few weeks ago. They's a few
things we as wrestlers ain't gotta be tol', an' one o' them things is t'
never put yer hands on an announcer. I ain't got no doubt that you'd be
a heck of a hand in a bar fight, Gordon, but you ain't a profession'lly
trained wrestler.

You call the matches, Ace, an' yer as good as they get it at. Butcha
don't wrestle in 'em.

So imagine my surprise when I seen a drunken hillbilly down here puttin'
his hands on non-wrestlin' people. Imagine the surprise o' all these
people when they saw Gordon Myers get choked by some fella name o' Frank
Dylan James.

Ha ha. Frank Dylan James?

[Driscoll hooks a thumb at himself.]

PD: "Pistol" Paul Driscoll... that's me.

You want a rumble big fella, nex' time come on out an' ask fer me. Don't
go layin' yer hands on Gordon, an' don't waste yer time with ol'
Buckthorne over there. If yer feelin' froggy, Frank, then come on an'
jump. I got watcha need, hoss, I got the fight yer lookin' for. An' if
you decide to come on out'n slap ol' Gordy here around again, I'm gonna
beat that message into yer skull with these two hands right here. 

They ain't got it, James, they ain't got yer fight. I do. So come get
some.

[Driscoll gives a grinning Gordon a little clap on the shoulder before
making his exit to the cheers of the fans.]

BW:  Awww, how cute.  Gordon's got a pal!

GM:  Frank Dylan James has been put on warning by "Pistol" Paul Driscoll
and after seeing what James did out here two weeks ago, _that's_ a match
I'd love to see.

BW:  It'd be one heck of a fight, daddy,. that's for sure.

GM:  Don't go away, fans, we'll be right back with Calisto Dufresne in
action!

[Fade out on a grinning Gordon and Bucky...

...and then back up on a screen with the AWA logo splashed across the
top with a "Live Events Schedule" graphic underneath.  The backdrop is
some generic space photograph showing the moon and some stars.]

"Join all the stars of the American Wrestling Alliance as they come to
your town!"

[The graphic changes to show a list of cities, venues, and dates.]

"On July 5th, we'll be right back in the WKIK Studios for a very special
television taping for The Battle Of Dallas!

On July 11th, we'll be back in Houston, Texas for another AWA live
event.  On July 12th, we're heading to San Antonio.  And on July 13th,
the AWA makes its Austin, Texas debut.

July 19th finds the AWA back in the WKIK Studios for another live
television taping.

We wrap up the month of July on the 25th, 26th, and 27th on the road
with cities to be announced!"

[The graphic changes back to the original AWA logo and "Live Events
Schedule" showing a smaller version of the three announced shows.]

"The AWA - the Major League of Professional Wrestling!  Don't miss it
when it comes to your town!"

[And we fade away from the graphic...

...and back up to the announce team.]

GM: Welcome back, fans.  Well, Bucky, weve got quite the treat ahead of
us now as we get to see Calisto Dufresne in singles action!

BW: Is that sarcasm I hear out of you?

GM: Not at all.  I am just thrilled to death to see Dufresne out here
tonight.  I wish we could see him more often.

BW: My sarcasm detector is in the red, daddy!

[Cut to Melissa Cannon in the ring.]

MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit!  Introducing first, already in the ring, standing 511 and
195 pounds, hailing from Houston, Texas, please welcome Johnny Ringo!!

[A smattering of small cheers for the young competitor standing on the
second turnbuckle giving the Texas Longhorn signal to the crowd.]

MC: And his opponent!  Standing 63 and weighing in at 245 pounds, from
Avery Island, Louisiana The Ladykiller 

Calisto Duuuuffffreeesssnnneee!!!!

[The arena lights begin to flicker slightly as the opening riffs of ZZ
Tops "Sharp Dressed Man" begin to blare across the sound system, the
crowd responding to the music with a chorus of boos.  The camera cuts to
the entranceway, where the curtains part to reveal one of the AWAs most
despised (and annoying) characters, "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne. 
Dufresne is clad in a black three-piece suit, his flowing blonde hair
cascading down past his shoulders.  He stands at the head of the
entryway for many moments, soaking in all of the boos he probably thinks
are cheers from his "throngs of adoring fans."]

BW: Well youre going to get your wish, daddy, cause here he comes!

[He finally begins to make his way towards the ring, ignoring every fan
who is screaming obscenities at him.  They just hate him because hes
beautiful.  Yeah, thats it.  Dufresne finally makes it to the ring,
where he proceeds to climb up the stairs and in through the ring ropes. 
"The Ladykiller" then proceeds to move to the center of the ring and
slowly remove his three-piece suit, mostly to the chagrin of the male
audience, but a few female shrieks are heard from the crowd as well. 
Dufresne finally finishes removing his suit, and now proceeds to pose
for the crowd, flexing his well-defined muscles as the crowds
ever-increasing boos become more and more evident.  Dufresne sneers
derisively at the crowd as he moves to the corner, preparing for the
start of the match.]

GM: Well he certainly loves himself!

BW: And rightfully so, Myers!  Look at him!  Hes built like a Roman
statue!  

[Cannon exits the ring with Ringo holding the ropes for her in a
gentlemanly manner.  Apparently he didnt do his homework, however,
because while he has his back turned Dufresne dashes across the ring and
drops him with a double axehandle to the back as the bell rings.]

GM: Dufresne wastes no time resorting to his underhanded tactics!

BW: Underhanded?  This kid is in the fight of his life, not on a first
date!  He needs to focus, daddy!

[Ringo gets back to one knee and wildly attempts a haymaker that
Dufresne easily sidesteps.  Dufresne grabs the young man by his wrist
and whips him across the ring, and lifts him high into the air with a
back body drop.  As Ringo clutches his back, the Louisiana native places
his boot on Ringos chest and stands with his hands on his hips, chest
out, looking off into the horizon as the boos rain down.]

GM: Typical Calisto Dufresne here, Bucky.  He could be focused on
winning this match and instead hes focused on embarrassing this young
man!

BW: This embarrassment is probably the highlight of this kids life!

GM:  I can tell you right now that if he tries something like this
against his opponents next weekend, he may get that foot ripped right
off.

[Dufresne continues the abuse, stepping on Ringos chest and over the
young man.  He continues on, walking to the opposite side of the ring
where an outspoken fan has some choice words for the Ladykiller. 
Dufresne takes notice of the man and leans over the top rope, pointing
at the fan and returning the choice words.]

GM:  Now he's bullying a fan?  This guy has a lot to learn about being a
real AWA superstar, Bucky.

[This gives Johnny Ringo some time to recover, and he comes up behind
Dufresne, grabbing him by his shoulder and spinning him around. 
Dufresne looks a bit shocked as Ringo reaches back and plasters Calisto
with a backhand chop to the chest to which the crowd responds with an
obligatory WHOO!]

GM: Dont underestimate Johnny Ringo, because hes here to prove himself!

BW: Just a momentary lapse in concentration, thats all!

[Ringo grabs the stunned Dufresne and whips him into the turnbuckle and
dashes over to him, climbing up to the second turnbuckle and begins
driving his fist into Dufresnes head, the crowd counting along with the
young man.




ONE!





TWO!







THREE!





FOUR!!





FIVE!!!




And as Ringo gets halfway to ten, thats where it ends.  Dufresne wraps
his arms around Ringos waist and plunges forward, smashing Ringo down
with a thudding spinebuster in the center of the ring!  Dufresne hooks
the leg and







ONE!!





TWO!!




Kickout by Ringo!]

GM: Very close call there for Johnny Ringo!  Dufresne had better stay on
the offensive here.

BW: The only thing offensive is your play by play, daddy!

[Dufresne drags the prone Ringo over to the corner and slides out of the
ring, the crowd knowing whats coming next.  Dufresne splits Ringos legs
around the ringpost and wraps his own legs in, locking in a figure-four
leglock around the ringpost!]

GM: This is an illegal maneuver!  Get in there, ref!

[As if on cue, referee Michael Meekly slides out of the ring and begins
admonishing Dufresne, demanding he release the hold.  Dufresne, of
course, refuses and the referee begins a five count on the Ladykiller. 
At 4.999999999, Dufresne releases the hold and Ringo rolls back into the
ring, clutching his knee, wincing in pain.  As Dufresne gets off of the
ground himself, Meekly begins to berate the former Pro Wrestling
Revolution Pacific Champion for his tactics.  Dufresne looks almost
amused at the referee and climbs back into the ring.]

GM: Once again, Dufresne shows his complete disregard for AWA authority!

BW: Why in the world would a man of Calistos stature be concerned with a
man like Michael Meekly?  What respect does he deserve?

GM: Hes an AWA official and commands respect inside the squared circle!

[Ringo is trying to climb back to one knee as Dufresne helps him back to
his feet by yanking him up by a handful of hair.  Dufresne grabs him by
the wrist and whips him to the rope-no, reversal by Ringo!  Dufresne
rebounds off the ring ropes as Ringo leans over for a backbody drop, but
is met instead by the tip of Dufresnes boot square in the face!  Ringo
staggers backwards as Dufresne comes forward and places Ringo in a front
facelock, lifting him into the air and]

GM: WHAM, BAM

BW: THANK YOU, MAAM!!

[plants the young man with his version of an implant DDT!!!  Its
elementary from here as Dufresne places one boot on Ringos chest as
Meekly dives in and makes the count





ONE!!!






TWO!!!






THREEEEEEEEEE!!!!





Ding!  Ding!  Ding!]

GM: Its over!  Calisto Dufresne with a very impressive victory over
Johnny Ringo here this evening!

BW: It was never in question, daddy!  

[The camera cuts to Melissa Cannon, microphone in hand.]

MC: The winner of this match by pinfall in six minutes, twelve seconds
THE LADYKILLER CALISTO DUUUUFFFFREEESNNNEEE!!

[ZZ Tops Sharp Dressed Man kicks in over the arena loudspeakers as
Dufresne ignores Meeklys attempt to raise his arm in victory.  He poses
one more time for the crowd as the boos rain down before climbing out of
the ring and heading back up the entryway.  Gordon Myers heads towards
the victorious Dufresne, microphone in hand, but for once, Dufresne
doesnt look interested in much conversation.]

GM: Calisto!  Id like to ask you a few questions.

[Dufresne stops, looking at Myers for the first time and smirks.]

CD: That performance speaks for itself, Gordie.  Pure brilliance on the
part of AWAs cornerstone!

[And with that, Dufresne walks off, leaving Myers staring at his back as
he heads behind the curtain.]

GM:  Unbelievable.

BW:  It really was an amazing performance, Gordo.

GM:  I meant the size of his inflated ego, Bucky.

BW:  It's not arrogance if you can back it up in the ring.

GM:  It's not- where do you come up with these things?  Give me a break,
Bucky.  Fans, Calisto Dufresne with a big victory here - just like
Adrian Freeman earlier tonight.  Unfortunately, we will not be able to
see the third member of that team in action tonight.

BW:  And rightfully so.  Stevie Scott has been outright insulted by the
Championship Committee and he is sending them a message here tonight in
Dallas.

GM:  Mr. Scott was apparently so offended at the implication that he has
been... how should we put this... goldbricking, perhaps?

BW:  Those were all legitimate injuries, Gordon!  I defy you to prove
otherwise!

GM:  Perhaps.  But now, the Committee has made it official.  Stevie
Scott MUST compete in the six man tag team match next weekend at The
Battle Of Dallas or he will be INDEFINITELY SUSPENDED!

BW:  It's just criminal.  A tragedy.  A travesty.  A miscarriage of
justice, you'd betta believe it, daddy!

GM:  Actually, it's a fantastic decision that will finally allow the AWA
fans to see Kentucky's Pride and Rick Marley get their hands on Stevie
Scott.

BW:  Bah.  It's a sham.

GM:  And speaking of Kentucky's Pride, we've got them up next!  Take it
away, Melissa!

[We cut up to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit. Introducing first, already in the ring, from Zeb,
Oklahoma... Weighing in at a combined 463 pounds... Cooper and Kaden
Oats, the OKLAHOMA BROTHERS!

[A smattering of boos for the Oklahoma Brothers cause, well, they're
Okies. Cooper and Kaden both wear identical black trunks and black
T-shirts with the Oklahoma state flag on them. Kaden is the bigger
brother of the two, standing around 6'4", about 230 pounds; Cooper is
slightly smaller, about 6'1", but more stacked at about an equalish 230
too. The two brothers back talk to the booing fans in the studio as
Melissa steps back up.]

MC: And their opponents, from Kentucky -

[Stephen C. Foster's "My Old Kentucky Home" begins to play over the PA
of the WKIK studios, bringing the fans to their feet for the two men
coming out of the entrance.]

MC: Weighing in at a combined 564 pounds, the team of Tin Can Rust and
City Jack... KENTUCKY'S PRIDE!

[Wearing his usual wrestling attire, Tin Can Rust raises his hands in
the air as he comes down the aisle. Behind him is City Jack, the first
we've seen of the Liberty native since Memorial Day Mayhem. A noticeable
limp can been seen as he favors his right leg while coming down the
aisle, slapping the fans' hands as he passes by.]

GM: City Jack's back in the WKIK studios, ready for action!

BW: The only thing City Jack's lookin' ready for is a cast, daddy. That
right leg doesn't look anywhere near healed yet.

GM: No, but he has been cleared to wrestle for tonight. Considering it's
only been a month since the beating that right leg of Jack's took, one
has to be concerned about his showing here tonight.

[Tin Can Rust and City Jack enter the ring, with Jack doing the best
jukin' n' jivin' he can do in his state. Rust goes over to his teammate
to confer for a moment before going to the center of the ring to meet
Kaden Oats.]

GM: Tin Can Rust and Kaden Oats starting this one out and you got to
wonder how much time City Jack will even see in this match?

BW: Can't waste the energy or health on these guys when Rick Marley's
counting on you to ready for The Battle Of Dallas next week. Stevie,
Calisto, and Adrian are all healthy - can't be having another bum wheel
to the team.

[Rust extends a hand towards Kaden Oats, only to get a slap in the face
from the brash Oklahoman youngster. Rust backs away for a moment,
rubbing the slapped area.]


"DING! DING! DING!"


GM: OH! Rust answers back from that slap with a huge clothesline that
knocks young Kaden Oats right down!

[Rust grabs the OK Bros' hand for a forced shake before dragging the
dazed Oats up and whipping him into the ropes.]

GM: Irish whip by Rust and another clothesline att- Oh! Kaden Oats ducks
and turns with a clothesline to the back of Rust's head! 

BW: Got to be worried here - Rust already lost one match he should've
handled easily.

GM: You know very well, Bucky, that loss wasn't Rust's fault.

BW: Loss is a loss, especially for a vet like Slow Man Dust.

[Kaden Oats puts the boots to Rust before dragging him up.]

GM: Kaden Oats peppering Tin Can Rust with some lefts and rights before
getting the tag to his brother, Cooper. 

[Kaden and Cooper Oats Irish whip the big Kentuckian.]

GM: Double back bodydrop by these Oats brothers and these two young men
are taking this opportunity to heart! They are laying into Rust with a
series of boots now!

BW: You get a shot to be in the place where it's happening, got to make
the most of it.

[The OK Brothers drag Rust up to their corner and start laying into the
Kentucky Prider with punches.]

GM: Punches raining down on Rust now and he really needs to get out of
this corner! 

BW: Looks like Rust and Jack took these two brothers too lightly.

[On the outside, City Jack yells at the ref to break up the exchange and
signals that they're using a closed fist. The ref finally intervenes,
but Rust slumps down to the mat as the Brothers confer.]

GM: Cooper staying in the ring now and goes over to Rust - oh! Kick to
the shin by Rust! And another one backs Cooper Oats away for a moment.

BW: Not pretty, but stings enough to get Rust some space.

[Rust drags himself up, but gets a shot to the back of the head by Kaden
Oats that brings out a loud boo from the fans!]

GM: Cheapshot from the Oats brothers and... and it looks like that may
have done more harm than good for the brothers!

[Indeed, that cheapie fired up Tin Can Rust a bit as turns to deliver a
discus punch right to the jaw of Kaden, knocking him right off the
apron! Loud cheer from the crowd!]

GM: Closed fist! Illegal move!

BW: The Oats started it.

[Young Cooper Oats tries to get Rust while his back is turned, but Rust
pushes himself off the ropes and lays a hard back elbow into the upper
chest of Cooper. Rust turns and hit Cooper with a couple open shots
before sending him into the ropes.]

GM: Rust with an Irish whip - clothesline attempt by Rust, but that's
ducked! Cooper on the rebound... Dropkick attempt, but Rust backs away
just in time!

BW: ...

[Rust gets in a knee to the gut of a rising Cooper Oats and then goes
for an Irish whip, but instead of sending Cooper out...]

GM: OH! Huge short-arm clothesline by Tin Can Rust that levels the Oats
brother!

BW: ...

GM: You okay?

BW: Hrm, what? Oh, sorry, dozed off there a second, Gordo.

[TCR drags Cooper up and drops him right back down with a big
powerslam.]

GM: How can you fall asleep at a time like this?

BW: Hey, I'm just saying that this type of wrestling ain't gonna cut it
when faced against Stevietainment, Calisto Dufresne, and Adrian Freeman.
 These goofs in the crowd got on Freeman's case earlier, saying he was
boring... well, what about Old As Dust in here?

[Rust goes for a cover, hooking the leg.]

GM: One! Tw- no, kickout there by Cooper Oats! The first pin attempt so
far in this match and -

BW: And if these two were of the class of their opponents at The Battle
Of Dallas, they'd have won it by now. 

[Rust drags Cooper Oats up to two feet and peppers him with some lefts
and rights. After a couple of shots, Rust ends the exchange with a huge
headbutt that drops Oats back down.]

GM: Hard headbutt by Rust and - and here we go! Rust is going for the
tag!

[The fans start to cheer in anticipation to see the fan favorite City
Jack back in the ring.]

GM: Tag is made and the two Kentuckians bring Cooper Oats to his feet!
Irish whip by City Jack...

[On the rebound, Rust grabs and lifts Cooper to his side and slams him
to the mat hard. On the side, Jack's doing a slight jig before giving a
short run towards the downed Cooper.]

GM: Big sidewalk slam! And -

BW: AVALANCHE!

GM: City Jack with that bellyflop follow up, hitting his large frame
straight down on the ribs of Cooper Oats! Cover - one! Two! Thr-no,
kickout! 

[The fans almost give a match ending ovation as Tin Can Rust goes
towards his corner, leaving Jack to work. City Jack stays down on one
knee and lays into the downed Cooper Oats with repeated elbow shots to
the face.]

GM: City Jack using his position and strength advantage here, pouring
those stiff elbow shots down on the skull of the Oklahoma Brother! 

BW: Easy offense, daddy - no need to wear down that bum knee when you
just crack the brainbasket.

[Jack lays in one last elbow before hooking Cooper Oats' leg.]

GM: Jack with a cover - one, two, thr- No! Another last second kickout
by the Oats Brothers! Jack up now, dragging Cooper up with him. Armbar
applied by the twenty year vet as he goes over to the corner and tags
his partner, Tin Can Rust, back in.

BW: Short trip for City Jack, guessing he doesn't want to test out the
tires too much.

GM: Rust in and he -

[Slap - Whoo!]

GM: Delivers a vicious knife-edge chop to Cooper Oats in the corner. He
rears back -

[Slap - Whoo!]

[Slap - Whoo!]

[Slap - Whoo!]

[Slap - Whoo!]

[Slap - Whoo!]

[Slap - Whoo!]

[Slap - Whoo!]

[Slap - Whoo!]

[Slap - Whoo!]

GM: Tin Can Rust now winding up that arm -

[Rust winds up as if he's delivering a fastball, but instead rockets his
fist underneath the chin of the Oats brother. Huge crowd pop!]

BW: Tin Jaw Rocker! Whoo, daddy, did that kid eat all of that punch!

GM: Cooper Oats is out, but Tin Can Rust is hearing a mouthful from the
referee - he's got to open up that fist if he wants to connect on a
punch like that. Cover now - one, two, three! NO! Kaden Oats came in at
the last second to break up the pinfall!

[With Kaden Oats now laying the boots to TCR, City Jack enters the ring
and hits the unsuspecting Kaden with that massive forearm of his.]

GM: Kaden Oats leveled with a Metropill courtesy of City Jack! That
drops the older Oats brother! Tin Can Rust has Cooper up and a hard
right sends him over to his partner, City Jack in the form of a bearhug!

[The fans get to their feet, knowing what to expect as City Jack holds
Cooper Oats high up in a bearhug. Meanwhile, Tin Can Rust rebounds
himself off the ropes and leaps (as well as TCR can) to hit Cooper with
a clothesline as Jack turns around - awkwardly enough - to hit the
belly-to-belly suplex.]

GM: DARK AND BLOODY GROUND! Jack with the cover - one! Two! Three!
Kentucky's Pride has won it!


"DING! DING! DING!" 


MC: Your winner of the match in a time of seven minutes and fourty-five
seconds...

KENTUCKY'S PRIDE!

[Both Jack and Rust raise their hands in triumph as the crowd cheers.
TCR asks something to Jack while pointing down at his right knee, but
Jack shakes him off in reply as they exit the ring.]

BW: I thought for a second City Jack wasn't going to turn the right way
- he almost ate that clothesline from his partner.

GM: Nonetheless, Kentucky's Pride has picked up the win here tonight and
showed that it still has fight left in them. Jack and Rust now
approaching the booth, so let's get a word from the two men.

[Both Kentuckians are now at the booth, City Jack sucking wind a little
more heavily than his partner (even thought Rust fought the bulk of the
match).]

GM: Tin Can Rust, City Jack, you picked up the win tonight, but it
seemed you had some problems here. Were you just being cautious in the
ring or -

TCR: Mr. Myers, no. No. We weren't holding anything back or trying to do
nothing of the sort. We just came up against a good team that was ready
to fight tonight. It's been a while since we had a team go up against us
- you know what a I mean? A team ready to actually fight us rather than
talk us out the building or try some cute tactics instead of meeting us
like men in the ring.

GM: City Jack, I have to say that your time in the ring tonight was
limited and you didn't seem at ease when performing that belly-to-belly
suplex of yours. Are you going to be ready when you face off against
Stevie Scott, Calisto Dufresne, and Adrian Freeman at The Battle of
Dallas?

CJ: First off, Mr. Myers, it is sure on great to be back here in front
of these fans! I miss ya!

[The nearby fans give a cheer for the man from Liberty, KY.]

CJ: Now, about me bein' ready? Sure am ready, no matter what the fight
or condition! I was fine in that ring tonight, just fine! The docs, they
done cleared me and my knee feels... well, it feels good. I ain't lyin'
none in that, yeah, I may have been a little hesitant, but that's all.
My knee didn't give out none there.

GM: But even your partner seemed concerned at the end of the match.

CJ: Naw, naw, I understand ya'll want to be diggin', maybe throwin' the
bone of drama into the match, but it ain't to be. Come next week, at the
Battle of Dallas? Day after all ya'll get your fill of hot dogs, some
beer, fireworks and good ol' celebratin' this greatest nation on God's
green Earth? I'll be ready and healthy as all get up for them three
yellow-striped men opposin' us and Rick.

TCR: I'll tell you this - there's not a finer competitor in this place
than Rick Marley -

[The crowd nearby pops at Marley's mention.]

TCR: Next week, we will clean up. Jack here will finally give what's
coming to Dufrense. Rick, he'll handle Freeman with no problems and
teach that kid a lesson that you handle it in the ring. And Scott? Heh,
well, he'll finally be forced to face me in that ring - no tricks, no
backing out. He's going to get what's coming to him and there's nothing
he can do about it.

[The two veterans exchange handshakes with Gordon Myers and make their
exit to the cheers of the fans.]

GM:  Kentucky's Pride says they are good to go for the biggest match of
their AWA stay so far next weekend here in Dallas - that huge six man
tag pitting them and Rick Marley against Stevie Scott, Calisto Dufresne,
and Adrian Freeman.  Believe me - you do not want to miss that!  Fans,
don't go away, the Power Hour is up next!

[And with that, we fade to black...

After a moment, we fade back up on a very long shot of the exterior of a
pretty dingy looking building.]

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

"Of your friends and family seeing you on television?"

[And just a little closer, revealing a red, white, and blue sign that
reads "AWA Combat Corner."]

"Well, now you can make all your dreams come true by signing up today at
the AWA Combat Corner - the official training school for the American
Wrestling Alliance!"

[We cut to the interior of the building where we can see lots of
standard gym equipment surrounding a very basic wrestling ring.  There
are people lifting weights, running on treadmills, and of course,
working out in the ring.]

"With the very best trainers in the business, the AWA Combat Corner is
the most-equipped training facility to get you in shape and get you in
the ring in the shortest amount of time!"

[Cut into the ring where Todd Michaelson is barking out instructions.]

"With former World Champion Todd Michaelson leading the classes, you can
guarantee that you will be prepared for in-ring action upon graduation
and with the AWA expanding by the day, you will have a place to work on
Day One!"

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

"So, stop by the Combat Corner today... call our offices... visit our
website... and let them know that you want to be the next AWA Superstar!
You want to be the future of the business!

You want to wrestle!"

[Fade to a graphic that has all the info on the AWA Combat Corner.  We
freeze there for a moment...

...and then fade back up on the announce desk where Gordon Myers and
Bucky Wilde have been joined by two fearsome individuals.]

GM:  Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, fans, and while we
are just moments away from the Power Hour, we have very obviously been
joined here at the broadcast table by the Russian War Machine, Kolya
Sudakov, and his uncle Vladimir Velikov.

[Velikov grins, nodding his head.  The heavy Russian chain is draped
over the back of his neck and shoulders.  Kolya Sudakov stands a few
steps away, right behind Gordon Myers who looks a little nervous at this
situation.]

GM:  And frankly, Mr. Velikov, I have to ask why.  Why are you out here
tonight?

[Velikov roughly grabs Myers by the wrist, tugging the mic towards him.]

VV:  Comrade Myers, do not presume you can bully my nephew and myself
simply because you hold a microphone in your hand.

GM:  I wasn't trying to-

VV:  While that Samoan beast had mercy on your pathetic American self...
I may not.  And my nephew... certainly will not.

[Gordon looks squeamish as he looks over his shoulder at an
expressionless Sudakov.]

VV:  Now, you ask why?  You always ask why, Comrade Myers.  Why do we
attack the Werewolf and his little friend so many weeks ago?  Why do we
wait for them to prove themselves worthy of facing true, superior Soviet
athletes?  Why do we use our chain to injure Rick Marley?  

Why?  Why?  Why?

[Velikov smirks, nodding his head as he pulls the chain free from his
neck and slams it down on the wooden table.]

VV:  And after next weekend, you will ask why again...

[Velikov attempts to mimic Gordon but his gravelly voice fails
miserably.]

VV:  I can see it now - "Why Mr. Velikov?  Why did you wrap that metal
chain around your hand and split the little one's head like a ripe
melon?  Why did you use your chain to strike the Werewolf's throat and
assure he will never howl again?"

[Velikov wraps the chain around his fist, holding the glinting steel in
front of his face.]

VV:  "Why did you make the blood flow like the Volga River back in your
Motherland?"

[Velikov chuckles.]

VV:  Why?  Why?  Why?  All questions are answered simply, Comrade Myers.

Because we can.

[A snort of derisive laughter causes Gordon to jump a bit.]

VV:  Next week, the day after this feeble nation celebrates their
birthday, the true superpower will rise once more... and we will show
exactly why your America may not live to see another one.

[Velikov starts to turn away, then seems to think better of it.]

VV:  Let us... how you say... begin your lesson now.  Gordon Myers, look
in the ring.  Do you see the two men there?

[Myers nods.]

GM:  Those are the two men... The Hangman and The Demon... that's the
tag team that Werewolf Gregorson and Despair defeated last ti-

VV:  Correct.  They were defeated by the Werewolf and his little friend
in seventy seconds, da?

GM:  That's right.

[Velikov nods.]

VV:  Keep your eyes on them, Gordon Myers.  For now you will see what a
_true_ superpower tag team can do that your weak Americans could not.

[Velikov throws the chain down as he and Kolya Sudakov race towards the
ring, the referee frantically calling for the bell as the Russian War
Machine strikes first, connecting with a leaping shoulder tackle that
knocks The Demon through the ropes to the floor where Sudakov quickly
pursues.]

GM:  Is this even a match?


"DING!  DING!  DING"!


BW:  It is now, daddy!

GM:  What's the point of this?  

BW:  They're going to show you what they can do that the weak Ameri-

GM:  I heard his hateful propaganda, Bucky.  I don't need it repeated to
me.  I don't need-

[From inside the ring, Velikov corners The Hangman, battering him with
forearms that knock him down to a knee.  Velikov turns towards the
announce table.]


"LOOK AT YOUR WEAK AMERICANS, GORDON MYERS!  LOOK!"


GM:  I'm looking, I'm looking.  This is ridiculous.  This is-

[Suddenly, the crowd roars as Despair emerges from the locker room area.
 He quickly makes his way to ringside, catching the attention of
Vladimir Velikov as he whispers something to Melissa Cannon.  She looks
confused and then with a nod, she speaks over the PA system.]

MC:  At this time, Despair asks that you please rise and show respect...
as he sings the Soviet National Anthem...

[Despair grins as he takes the mic from Melissa, pulling a crumpled
piece of paper out of his pocket to read from.  He launches into the
song with a horrific pitch and squeal to his voice.]

D:  Soyuz nerushimy respublik svobo- err.. how you say...

[An irate Velikov leans over the ropes, screaming at Despair for his
disrespect...

...which allows The Hangman to get to his feet in the corner and as
Velikov turns around, The Hangman charges from the buckles, obliterating
Velikov with a spear tackle.]

BW:  Wait a second!

GM:  THAT LOOKED FAMILIAR, BUCKY!

[Reaching back to hook the leg, The Hangman waves for the referee to
count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd erupts into cheers as The Hangman rolls from the ring,
joining Despair at ringside, and after they exchange high fives, the
mask comes off...

...to reveal a grinning Werewolf Gregorson.]

GM:  IT'S WEREWOLF GREGORSON!

BW:  Ahhh, what a sham!  You talk about a miscarriage of justice.  The
Russians were robbed, Gordon Myers!

GM:  Gregorson and Despair fooled the Russians... they tricked the
Russians... and that's definitely got to put momentum on their side
heading into The Battle Of Dallas and that big Russian Chain match next
weekend!

BW:  They're gonna bleed, Gordo - I'll promise you that right now.  The
Russians will only be more determined to bleed them both dry in the
middle of this ring next week.  Call the Red Cross cause we're gonna
need some transfusions next weekend, daddy!

GM:  Fans, we'll be right back!  Don't go away!

[The camera zooms in on an irate Vladimir Velikov screaming in Russian
at the smirking Gregorson and Despair as we fade to black...

...and then fade back up on a black screen with the AWA logo splashed
across it.]

"Join your favorite stars of the American Wrestling Alliance throughout
the state of Texas this week for exclusive meet-and-greet sessions."

[A scrolling list of names and locations flash by in white text:

Rick Marley and Kentucky's Pride
North Dallas Spectrum - Dallas, TX
June 29

Paul Driscoll and Rough N Ready
West Dallas Galleria - Dallas, TX
June 30

Sweet Daddy Williams and Mark Shaw
Dallas Ford - Dallas, TX
July 2

Werewolf Gregorson, Despair, and Ricky Royal
Harris Chevrolet - Dallas, TX
July 4

The names end, leaving just the AWA logo behind.]

"All the stars of the AWA are comin' your way so don't miss 'em!"

[And with that, we fade back to black...

...and then back up on the AWA Saturday Night Wrestling announce desk
where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  What an exciting night of action we've had
here so far tonight and it's only gonna get better.  We've still got
that big National Title defense with Marcus Broussard taking on Kendall
Stanton plus much, much more - and we already witnessed the Russians
dropping a tag match to the Demon and The Hangman.

BW:  Don't get me started.  That was... ugh.

GM:  Heheh... I enjoyed it.  Fans, earlier tonight, we saw the mighty
Tumaffi in action... well, sorta.  The match never really started but we
beat another young wrestler into oblivion for no reason.

BW:  No reason?  He was sending a message to Ricky Royal!

GM:  Well, now it's time for Ricky Royal to send one right back to him. 
With just seven days until Royal and Tumaffi collide in the middle of
this studio, let's go up to the ring to see the Ragin' Rebel in action!

[We cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is schedule for one fall with a ten minute
time limit. Introducing first, already in the ring, from Waco, Texas...
JOHN WORLEY!!

[A predictably overwhelmed-looking young lad with dark hair is standing
in the ring. He is dressed in a bright red singlet and he raises his
hand to a smattering of applause.

And then...

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!]

MC:  And his opponent!

[Amidst a HUGE ovation, the crunchy 70's guitar of "Mississippi Queen"
blares through the studio.]

GM:  Listen to this crowd reaction! I can barely hear myself talk!

BW:  When you're blabberin' on about this jerk, I wish I _couldn't_ hear
you talk, daddy!

[To a second big ovation, Ricky Royal bursts through the entrance
curtain, wearing his standard red trunks with the Confederate flag
design on the back and "Heritage Not Hate" across the front. He's also
wearing matching boots and kneepads and a navy blue AWA t-shirt. 

Stepping into the studio behind him is a relatively short young man in
jeans and a "Ragin' Rebel" t-shirt who looks just a bit familiar to
devoted AWA fans.]

MC:  Hailing from Vicksburg, Mississippi... he weighs in at 270
pounds... THE RAGIN' REBEL... RICKY ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOYAAAAALLLL!

GM:  And is that... is that Cal Casey out here with him?

BW:  Cal Casey? Who? Who in the heck is Cal Casey?

[Royal and Casey make their way down toward the ring, slapping hands
with the fans as they go. But they make a stop as they get to the
announce desk. As the music fades, Ricky reaches out to shake hands with
Gordon, who graciously accepts, and Bucky, who leaves the offer stranded
in mid-air. Shaking his head at his rude partner, Gordon holds a
microphone out for Ricky.] 
 
GM:  Ricky, good to see you, as always. Now what is Cal Casey doing here
with you? After what happened last time, I never thought I'd see him in
this studio again.

RR:  Well, Gordo, it's like this: I owe this kid one, ain't no doubt
'bout that. 

[Big cheer for the young Texan's heroics last week.]

RR:  If it weren't for him, I'd a' been flattened like a pancake last
time courtesy a' Tumaffi's big gut. And so I fig'r, what better way to
show 'em my 'ppreciation than to ask 'em to 'ccompany me to the ring
tonight?

GM:  Well, it's good to see you, Cal. How's the ribs?

CC:  Oh, it's good to be here, Mr. Myers. As for my ribs...

[The youngster lifts up his t-shirt, showing the layers of white
bandages covering his bruised midsection. He winces visibly as he raises
the shirt up high enough. In sympathy, both Gordon and Bucky wince, as
well.]

CC:  Well, they're hurtin', that's for certain.

GM:  Oh, sorry to hear that, Cal.

BW:  Maybe next time you'll think to stay outta the road when there's a
semi barrelin' down the highway.

GM:  Bucky!

[Suddenly Ricky snaps to attention, stepping right up to Wilde and
putting a finger to his chest.]

RR:  Now you listen here, Buck Wilde! Don't you for one secon' try to
tell this kid what he did last time was anythin' less 'n one of the
bravest acts anyone in the great state a' Texas has seen in a rasslin'
ring in a long, long time.

[Fuming, Bucky raises his own hand to knock Ricky's finger away.]

BW:  Take your hands off m--

RR:  SI'DOWN!

[Royal plants his palm straight into Bucky's chest and knocks him back a
couple of steps to a huge cheer!]

RR:  If Tumaffi gon' come out here and put his hands on Gordon for no
good reason, then maybe _I_ ain't gon' hesitate to put _you_ in _your_
place if you're gon' flap your gums 'bout something you got no idea
'bout--like bein' a hero!

[HUGE ROAR! His chest heaving, Ricky glares down at Bucky, who's clearly
incensed but not daring to move.]

RR:  Bucky, you and Tumaffi put _together_ ain't _half_ the man Cal
Casey is!

[Another big cheer as Ricky turns from the announce desk and continues
down to the ring, a beaming Cal Casey in tow. Gordon can't keep the grin
out of his voice as Ricky rolls under the bottom rope and into the
ring.]

GM:  What's the matter, Bucky? Cat got your tongue?

BW:  If I didn't wanna let Tumaffi have the honor of takin' that
arrogant sack a'-

GM:  Watch it.

BW:  ...dirt out, I'd have put him on the floor right then and there. 

GM:  Uh huh. Anyway, it looks like Ricky's ready to go.

[DING! DING! DING!]

GM:  So we've got a decidedly perturbed Ricky Royal going up against
young John Worley here.

BW:  I'm the biggest dang Worley fan in this building right now. The
nerve of this guy...

[After a moment of circling, Royal and Worley meet in the center of the
ring for a tie-up, which Ricky quickly wins.]

GM:  Royal with a headlock on Worley... wrenching it in... Worley backs
them both into the ropes, breaks the headlock, and sends Royal across
the ring.

[Royal rebounds off the far ropes, comes charging back...]

GM:  OH! And down goes Worley with a big clothesline by Royal! Royal off
the ropes again... Worley to his feet and DOWN again with another
clothesline!

BW:  C'mon, Johnny boy, GET UP! There ya go...

GM:  Royal hooks a groggy Worley... BODYSLAM! Off the ropes again... BIG
ELBOW DROP! Here's a cover... One! Two! And a kickout! Worley's not
quite done yet.

BW:  I feel an upset comin' on.

GM:  Doesn't look like it so far. Worley back to his feet slow, with
some help from Royal... Royal sends him to the turnbuckle and follows
him in... OH! Shoulder to the gut! And Royal jumps up to the middle
buckle, standing over Worley... the fans love this, Royal now raining
blows down on John Worley!

"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
"EIGHT!"
"NINE!"
"TEN!"

[Jumping off the buckle, Royal lets Worley stagger out into the middle
of the ring and watches as he flops face-first to the mat.]

GM:  Royal pulling Worley up once more... fires him into the ropes...
and a big shoulderblock takes him back down yet again! 

[Royal pulls Worley up to his feet one more time, pulling him to the
middle of the ring. With Cal Casey cheering him on, pounding the mat and
inciting the crowd, Royal wraps his arms around Worley's waist.]

GM:  Oh here we go... SUPLEX! Big belly to belly suplex there and that
laid Worley flat on his back!

[Walking over to the ropes near Cal Casey, Royal starts pounding the top
rope with his fists, getting the crowd even more pysched up.]

GM:  Royal's got this crowd in a frenzy right now. He's fully in control
of this match and he may be looking to end it right here!

BW:  Where is Tumaffi when you need him?

[Royal steps between the ropes out onto the apron. He reaches down and
high fives Casey on his way past him as he starts ascending the
turnbuckle. A huge buzz swells, urging Ricky on and almost drowning out
the single bass drum beat that has just played through the studio.]

GM:  This is it, this is the match... this is the move he learned just
for Tumaffi... and listen to this crowd!

[A few more drum beats, rhythmic and resounding, the sound of rain
beneath almost entirely buried in the noise from the manic crowd, who
are spurring on Ricky Royal. The Ragin' Rebel points down at Cal Casey,
looks to the sky and opens his mouth for a shrieking, gutteral, maniac
howl!]



RR:  YYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!



[And with that, he launches all 270 Mississippi-bred pounds off of that
top rope and goes sailing through the air, crashing down on top of John
Worley with a devastating elbow drop.


"THUUUUUUUUDDDD!"]


GM:  There it is! The Rebel Yell Elbow! And a cover!


ONE! TWO!




[BOOOOOOOOOOOOM! 

Unmistakable and no longer hidden under the crowd noise, the sound of a
thunderbolt cracks through the din.]

GM:  What the...?

BW:  Huh?

[Everyone in the arena, including the referee and Ricky Royal, look up
the aisleway...]

BW:  Oh yeah, daddy!

[... to see the mighty Tumaffi walking towards the ring, his ominous
music of hollow-sounding drumbeats and reedy-toned woodwinds playing. A
big round of boos comes raining down on him.]

GM:  What is this?

BW:  It's Tumaffi, daddy!

GM:  But what is he doing here?

[Quick as lightning to Tumaffi's thunder, Royal is off of Worley (who
rolls onto his belly) and reaching over the top rope, pointing and
screaming at Tumaffi, demanding he step back.]

GM:  This is bad. This is bad.

BW:  What's he doing?

GM:  Oh no...

[He detours around the ring, heading straight for Cal Casey, who is
backpedaling away from him.]

GM:  He's headed for Casey! Ricky, you gotta...

[But Ricky's already on his way, turning--]

GM:  NO!

BW:  YES! Kick to the gut by John Worley! Forearm to the back!  Hooks
the head... and a swinging neckbreaker brings Ricky Royal down!

[HUGE heel pop as Tumaffi gets his big, meaty hands on Cal Casey,
grabbing him and throwing him into the nearest ringpost!]

BW:  Oh, I told him, I warned him to stay away. This is not a rivalry
you want to get in the middle of. And now Cal Casey's gonna learn the
hard way.

GM:  Ricky, get up!

[In the ring, Worley is taking the boots to Royal while outside Tumaffi
is ripping Casey's "RAGIN' REBEL" t-shirt off.]

GM:  Somebody has to stop this!

BW:  There is nothing in the world I wanted more tonight than to see
Ricky Royal getting a mudhole stomped in him by John Worley.

GM:  He's ripping Casey's bandages off! Tumaffi is yanking the bandages
clean off of Cal Casey!

[The bandages lying on the floor, with Royal still staring at the
ceiling and John Worley relentlessly stomping him, Tumaffi lifts Casey
up into his arms, his back exposed.]

GM:  Oh god... Tumaffi backing up... no, no, no...

"CRUNCH!!"

[A horribly sympathetic "OHHHHHHHHHH" from the crowd as Tumaffi charges
as hard as he can into the ringpost, driving Cal Casey back-first into
the steel and bending him backwards on those already busted ribs.]

GM:  Oh my god, oh my god...

BW:  Oh Lord...

GM:  Cal Casey is hurt. I mean hurt bad. 

[Tumaffi, satisfied, walks around the ring again and heads up the aisle,
leaving the ring area to a wild round of boos. In the ring, Worley has
pulled Royal to his feet... whips him to the ropes...]

GM:  Clothesline by Ricky Royal! But, by God, who cares about this match
anymore? We need medical attention down here right now. Cal Casey is in
a very bad way.

[With Worley down, Royal slides out of the ring to attend to Casey, who
can barely move and is clearly in tremendous pain, tears streaming down
his face. A pair of paramedics come rushing down the aisle and past
Tumaffi with a stretcher, Royal waving them in. The camera mic catches
this exchange:]

RR:  He needs help... he's... he's hurt. No, no, no, what'd I do? Why'd
I bring 'em down here, why'd I do it, wha' was I thinkin'? C'mon, just
get 'em on that stretcher, he needs your help, ain't you a paramedic,
can't ya do this any faster!?

[As the paramedics try to stabilize Casey and load him onto the
stretcher, a frantic Royal is crowding them. One of them turns to him.]

Paramedic:  Look, look, stop! We need some space, we need to get him out
of here! Just let us do this!

[Still frantic, Royal takes two steps back and watches them work...
before he turns and looks back into the ring... with Tumaffi gone,
there's only one person Royal could be training his eyes on.]

GM:  Worley's just staring at Cal Casey right now. Does he realize what
he's done?

BW:  Worley took advantage of his opponent's weakness. Royal should
never have brought Casey to the ring. This is not a place for anyone who
can't take care of themself. This is not Worley's fault, it's Royal's.

GM:  Royal slides back in the ring as the EMTs attend to Cal Casey...
and Worley charges him! Is this match still carrying on?

[Royal ducks a clothesline from Worley, who charges past him, bounces
off the ropes, and gets met with a kick to the gut by Ricky, who
immediately steps forward into a standing headscissors hold.]

BW:  Big mistake, Worley.

GM:  Royal crossing Worley's arms underneath him... and the LIFT!


"THUUUUUUUUUD!"


GM:  MISSISSIPPI RIVER PLUNGE! 

[Dropping down for the cover, Royal stares at the paramedics as they
carry Cal Casey on a stretcher up the aisle and out of the studio.] 

GM:  One! Two! Three!

[DING! DING! DING!]

GM:  Ricky Royal wins this match, but at what cost?

BW:  This guy got what was coming to him. Nobody puts their hands on The
Buck. But I have to admit, that has to be particularly devastating for
the Ragin' Rebel.

GM:  He promised himself and Erik Reid that he'd never let this happen
to anyone again on his watch and here we are, watching someone else get
stretchered out of the studio thanks to the brutality of Tumaffi.

[Exiting the ring, clearly dejected and upset, Royal trudges up the
aisle behind the paramedics as we fade to black...

...and then back up to a shot showing the logos of Pro Wrestling
Revolution, Sin City Wrestling, and Southern Championship Wrestling.]

"From Day One, the American Wrestling Alliance was determined to give
its fans the very best action available.  And on Day One, our video
library is officially open for business!"

[Cut to a closeup of the Sin City Wrestling logo.]

"Check out "High Profile" Darryl Styles on commentary.  See the Upper
Crust in action before they were the Upper Crust!"

[Now to the Southern Championship Wrestling logo.]

"Ricky Royal lit up the rings in SCW before he came to the AWA!  "Stars
and Stripes" Clayton Shaw was a SCW staple as well!"

[And then the PWR logo.]

"See Calisto Dufresne in action!  And don't forget the ever-dangerous
Kolya Sudakov!"

[Cut back to the wide shot of all three logos.]

"Events from all three promotions are available NOW exclusively through
the AWA website via DVD or download!  So, be the first on the block to
be an AWA expert and check out all of this great action today!"

[Fade to black...

...and then back up on the announce desk where Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde have been joined have been joined by "Agent to the Stars" Ben
Waterson, who is waving a miniature German flag in his right hand.]

GM: At this time I want to welcome Ben Waterson to the announce desk
who-

ATTSBW:  Get it straight, Gordon Myers.  I am the "Agent To The Stars"
Ben Waterson.  You've made this mistake before but I promise you after
tonight... you will never forget that I am the man who brings the big
stars here to the AWA.  I'm always on the hunt, Gordon Myers, always on
the prowl for the next big thing, baby!

GM:  So, you said after toni-

ATTSBW:  That's right, Gordon Myers!  I did not stutter!  Two weeks ago,
I shocked the world.  The world stood still and shook from North Pole to
South Pole in fear.  They knew _he_ was coming.  They heard the words
flow like butter from my mouth...

The Son Of The German Juggernaut...

The Son Of The Teutonic Terror...

The Son Of The Butcher...

[Waterson smirks and drops his voice to a whisper.]

BW:  And now?  He's here.

[The frantic noises of John Carpenter's theme to Halloween start to play
over the PA and the crowd grows restless as they crane their necks,
trying to get a good look at the curtain.]

ATTSBW: He comes straight from the heart of his country, Berlin,
Germany! He stands at a massive six feet and eight inches and weighs in
at two-hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle!

[The music becomes more intense and Waterson's voice more agitated.]

ATTSBW: He carries the torch of a past legend into a new century ... the
rebirth of the German Juggernaut! The rise once more of the Teutonic
Terror! 

I GIVE YOU THE NEW BUTCHER! 

BRUNO VERHOEVEN!

[On cue, the huge shape of Bruno Verhoeven steps into through the
curtain. For a moment, the young German's eyes wander around the arena.
He is a heavily muscled behemoth. His body is almost chiselled to
perfection. His face betrays his youth, though, as he looks barely old
enough to shave and his fat cheeks are flushed red with excitement. His
black hair is styled as a military crew cut.]

BW: Whoa!  They sure grew them big in Krautland, daddy!

GM: Have you truly done it, Ben Waterson?  Is this really the son of
Otto Verhoeven?

ATTSBW: Just look at him, Gordon Myers. Isn't it obvious?

[Verhoeven is wearing long, black spandex trunks with a red and golden
stripe running down his right leg. Black, fingerless gloves cover his
hands.

Bruno starts to march toward the ring, not acknowledging the crowd at
all anymore. His movements are tense, almost rigid, and his jaw is
working all the time. Bruno slowly climbs the ring steps, pushes down
the top rope and climbs over it into the ring. 

BW: How young is he? I mean ... he is big enough but he really can't be
much older tha-

ATTSBW: He is brimming with size, power and talent, Bucky. He is old
enough to tear his opponent tonight limb from limb and that's the only
age that counts for me.

[Verhoeven takes a moment to glare at the referee before he moves into
the centre of the ring and raise a gloved fist above his head. The
salute lasts only a few seconds before he lumbers back into his
corner.]

GM: His opponent tonight is tough veteran Karl Kane from Memphis,
Tennessee.  This is his debut tonight as well - but he has quite the
success in his background.

BW:  He was a former Southern Heritage Champion in Southern States
Wrestling - a long, long time ago.  He's been up and down the roads in
the Southern wrestling territories for years.

GM:  Ever managed him?

BW:  No, but I've seen countless matches he was in.  He's a tough,
grizzled veteran - but his best days are behind him.

ATTSBW:  Blah, blah, blah.  It could be the Hand of God in the ring with
the Son of The Butcher and they wouldn't stand a chance.

[The tough veteran Kane continues to size up big Bruno Verhoeven in
front of him.]

DING! DING! DING!

GM: And we are underway!

ATTSBW: Fasten your seatbelts, boys, this will be quite a ride.

[Verhoeven walks into the middle of the ring, staring down at Karl Kane.
Then, he holds his right hand up high over his hand, points at it with
his left one and bellows something at Kane.]

GM: Is he challenging him to a test of strength?

BW: Ha! Kane is more than 50 pounds lighter and in a whole different
world as far as power goes. Plus, he would need to jump just to reach
Verhoeven's hand.

[In the ring, Kane shakes his head and starts to circle Verhoeven,
who remains in the centre of the ring, his hand still up in the air.]

ATTSBW: Bruno is obviously not used to facing cowards like this
old man Kane. I thought the South was supposed to be full of real men,
Gordon Myers? His first opponent and he already dodges my man.

[Kane has circled Verhoeven twice now and finally the big German lowers
his hand and motions for his opponent to hook up.  Collar-and-elbow and
Verhoeven flings Kane into the ropes.]

GM: BIG Clothesline by Bruno Verhoeven sends Kane down to the mat.

[Verhoeven at once starts to stomp away on Kane who tries to crawl away
but a meaty hand grabs his hair and slowly pulls him up, only to knock
him down again with a straight punch to the face. The crowd starts to
boo Bruno. Referee Mickey Meekly gets into the face of the big German
who barely acknowledges him, his eyes set on his opponent.]

BW: Ah, I start to like his fighting style. The kid does not pull his
punches.

GM: Karl Kane looks out of it already after that blatant closed fist.

ATTSBW: Come on, ref, don't be a spoilsport, we have only just begun!

[Indeed, Verhoeven walks past the referee and once again pulls the limp
form of Kane up by the hair. He then grabs him and executes a body slam
with impressive ease. Now Bruno turns to the crowd and spreads his arms
in an arrogant "look-at-me gesture", which is answered by a shower of
boos.]

GM: The fans have already begun to form an opinion of your new charge,
Ben Waterson, and dare I say it is not a positive one.

ATTSBW: The people always hate what they fear, Gordon Myers.

[Karl Kane has started to pull himself up by the ropes. Verhoeven looks
on from the other side of the ring as his opponent stands on wobbly feet
and suddenly charges at him with great strides!]

GM: RUNNING SHOULDERBLOCK!

BW: What an impact! He didn't just hit him, he ran over him like a
bulldozer!

[The German grabs Kane by the neck and pulls him up to land another
blatant punch, this time hitting him square in the kidney area. As Karl
gasps for breath Verhoeven flings him into the rope again with a
whip. Bruno puts his head down for a back body drop but instead Kane
stops short and hits him with a kick to the face. Immediately the crowd
comes alive! Verhoeven staggers back, holding a hand to his head as
Kane pumps a fist in the air.]

GM: Rookie mistake by Bruno Verhoeven! Can Karl Kane use this momentum
to change the flow of the match?

ATTSBW: I don't think so, baby!

[Kane rushes into the ropes once again and launches himself on the
rebound at the New Butcher with a cross-body-block ...]

BW: Caught! Verhoeven caught him!

ATTSBW: Look at the panic in the old man's face. He knows it's over now!

[Verhoeven holds him for a moment before he shifts his prey and ...
starts to press him over his head.]

GM: Another impressive demonstration of power!

BW: Once, twice, three times, four ... Kane weighs 230 pounds but to
Bruno Verhoeven he might as well be a puppy dog!

[Finally, after five repetitions, Verhoeven completes the military press
slam and drops the Tennesee veteran. The German bellows something in his
native language at the crowd and runs his hand over his throat.]

ATTSBW: You know what this means, guys? 

BW: I am not really fluent in German, even though I had a fling once
with an Austrian milkmaid ...

ATTSBW: It means WELCOME TO THE SLAUGHTERHOUSE!

[Verhoeven turns to the cringing body before him and this time his
massive right hand wraps itself around Kane's throat. Then, again
demonstrating his raw power, he lifts him straight from the mat to above
his head for and crashing down again upon his knee!]

ATTSBW: SLAUGHTERSLAM!

GM: The terrifying move we have not seen since Otto Verhoeven retired! 

ATTSBW: Oh, you will see it again, Gordon Myers, many times!

[Verhoeven puts a boot across the chest of his opponent and Mickey
Meekly counts quickly to end this.]

DING! DING! DING!

[Bruno spits on the prone form of his opponent as "Halloween" starts up
again.]

MC:  Your winner of the match in a time of four minutes and thirty
seconds...

"THE NEW BUTCHER" BRUNO VERHOEVEN!

[We cut back to the announce desk where Ben Waterson is giving a
standing ovation ... while the crowd reacts with "thumbs down" and
boos.]

ATTSBW: There you have it, boys, the future of a legacy, the future of
the American Wrestling Alliance! 

GM: Can we have a few words with him to ...

ATTSBW: I don't think so, Gordon Myers. For now, let me celebrate my new
find and remember to stay in awe of the newest AWA superstar!

[Myers drops the headphones, picks up his miniature flag and moves to
the ring where Verhoeven still stands, jawing with the crowd.]

GM:  Fans, don't go away, we'll be right back.

[Fade out on a grinning Ben Waterson, beaming proudly at his latest
find...

...and then back up on a screen with the AWA logo splashed across the
top with a "Live Events Schedule" graphic underneath.  The backdrop is
some generic space photograph showing the moon and some stars.]

"Join all the stars of the American Wrestling Alliance as they come to
your town!"

[The graphic changes to show a list of cities, venues, and dates.]

"On July 5th, we'll be right back in the WKIK Studios for a very special
television taping for The Battle Of Dallas!

On July 11th, we'll be back in Houston, Texas for another AWA live
event.  On July 12th, we're heading to San Antonio.  And on July 13th,
the AWA makes its Austin, Texas debut.

July 19th finds the AWA back in the WKIK Studios for another live
television taping.

We wrap up the month of July on the 25th, 26th, and 27th on the road
with cities to be announced!"

[The graphic changes back to the original AWA logo and "Live Events
Schedule" showing a smaller version of the three announced shows.]

"The AWA - the Major League of Professional Wrestling!  Don't miss it
when it comes to your town!"

[And we fade away from the graphic...

...and back up to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first, already in the ring at this time... from
Boston, Massachusetts... standing in at 6'1 and weighing 234 pounds...
Luke Reynolds!

[Reynolds lifts an arm to the apathetic reaction of the crowd.  His
blonde hair flows back over his shoulders as he shakes his head at the
fans.]

MC: And his opponent...

[The familiar piano of Bethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" creeps over the PA
in it's usual haunting manner.]

GM: That music can mean only one thing AWA fans, Ron Houston is in the
building!

BW: Hasn't he taken enough of a beating at the hands of Broussard,
Gordo.  Just let sleeping dogs lie already and retire, Ron.

GM: You saw the same thing I saw, Bucky.  Ron Houston laying out Marcus
Broussard with that deadly Fade to Black to end the last show.  I think
it's safe to say that Ron Houston is back in full form and has his eyes
set on the National Championship.

BW:  Back schmack. 

[The curtains part and there is man of so many names. The East Coast
Terror. The Athens, Georgia Madman. The crowd immediately erupts as
Houston swaggers his way into the entrance. His traditional tan
trenchcoat and black cowboy hat in hands as he momentarily soaks in the
adulation of the crowd before lumbering down towards ringside. He turns
to Gordon and Bucky, dropping his hat and coat on the announcing duo's
table. Uttering one line before continuing down towards ringside.]

RH: Hold onta these fer a minute, boys.

[Houston rushes the ring, sliding in under the bottom ropes and rising
to his feet. His attire consisting of his regular get-up. Black
wrestling trunks. Black knee and elbow pads. And his new black shoulder
sleeve that rests snuggly on his left arm. A constant reminder of the
bullseye that's remained on that shoulder for so long. He rises and
paces back and forth on the opposite side of the ring from Reynolds as
Melissa continues.]

MC: ... coming to us by way of Athens, Georgia... he stands in at 6'7
and weighs in at 286 pounds... please welcome...

"The Athens, Georgia Madman"

"The East Coast Terror"

... RRRRROOONNNNN HHHHOOOUUUUSSSTTTTTOOOONNNNN !!!

[The crowd erupts in response!]

BW: I'll bet you a nickel that Luke Reynolds focuses on that there
shoulder, Gordon.  No _way_ it's healed and ready to go.  If it was, I
doubt he'd be wearing that brace.

GM: Well, it held up just fine two weeks ago when he got Broussard up
there and dropped him with that Fade to Black, Bucky. 

[Ding! Ding! Ding!]

[Houston stretches on the top rope as Reynolds charges from behind,
driving a series of rights and lefts into the man from Athens' back.]

BW: Reynolds from behind!  He's nailing Houston with a bunch of rights
and lefts.  This guy has the goods, Gordon...


LR: "OOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"


GM: __PULSEKILLER__!  Ron Houston turned and caught Luke Reynolds square
in the chest... square in the heart with that heart punch.

[Reynolds body spasms on impact, collapsing in on himself as he drops to
the mat. Twitching slightly as he lands with a thud. Houston stands over
Luke, fire in his eyes as he drags the AWA newcomer back up to his feet.
He cocks his arm back coldly.]


{{{{TTTTTHHHHHWWWWAAAPPPPPPPPPPPP}}}}


BW: My god! LARIAT!!! LARIAT!!! It's like a signature move showcase out
here, Gordon. 

GM: Ron Houston has quickly laid Luke Reynolds to _waste_ hitting both
the Pulsekiller and the Lariat in quick succession, Bucky. This match is
over!

[Houston drags a limp Reynolds off the mat, dragging his thumb across
his throat before slinging him up onto his shoulders in a fireman's
carry. He paces around the ring as the fans rise from their seats,
knowing what's coming. Expecting what's coming. And loving every second
of it. He swivels around, and drops Reynolds face first on the mat.]


{{{{TTTTTTHHHHHUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDD}}}}


BW: FADE TO BLACK!!! FADE TO BLACK!

GM: Houston with the cover!


"ONE!"


"TWO!"


"THREE!"


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd roars once again for the victory.]


MC: The winner oF this match... 


... "THE ATHENS GEORGIA MADMAN" ... 


RONNNNN HOUUUUSTON!

[Houston rolls off his annihilated opponent and sits up, smirking at the
crowd as he does so. He rolls out of the ring and walks over to Gordon
and Bucky, having hardly broken a sweat.]

GM: Ron, that was a heckuva showing in there tonight.  So I guess the
question that lingers with everybody in attendance, and with several of
the wrestlers in the back is... how exactly is Ron Houston's shoulder
doing?

[Houston smiles slightly.]

RH: Well, Gordon... why don't ya ask good ol' Luke Reynolds how mah
shoulder is doin'.  Ask him how it held up when ah dropped him face
first with mah Fade ta Black.  Ask him how it held up when I cocked mah
fist and drove it right inta his stinkin' heart.  Ask him how it held up
when ah took mah left arm, cocked it back and sent it screamin' towards
his neck. 

[Houston grabs his black cowboy hat and plunks it down on his buzzed
skull.]

RH:  But ya might wanna wait ta ask him til he wakes up from his li'l
nap, amigo. 

GM: Now two Saturdays ago, we all saw your tag match with Mark Shaw
versus Marcus Broussard, AWA National Champion.. and his partner Rick
Marley.  Now, your team lost when Shaw was pinned... but the important
question is, after months of frustration, how'd it feel to finally get
your hands on Broussard again, and hit him with the Fade to Black?

RH: There's a reason ah sat out of the tour following Memorial Day
Mayhem, Gordon.  And it was quite simple.  Ah was in _no_ shape to
compete in that there tournament.  Ya'll heard the doctors say it, ah
shouldn't have been competin' and ah did it anyway.  _Against_ doctors
orders ah went out there at Memorial Day Mayhem and gave it mah all...
_knowing_ ah wasn't just fightin' Broussard but my own body as well.  Ah
put mah title hopes on the line... ah put mah personal safety on the
line.. heck ah put my _career_ on the line.  Why, ya might ask? 

[Houston pats his chest with his left hand.]

RH:  Cause this here heart knows no quit, Gordon.  Ah ain't the kind of
man who's gonna back down from a challenge... from a li'l _runt_ like
Marcus just cause ah only got myself one good arm.  Ah'd fight the man
with no arms and one leg if that's what it took.  But _despite_ the odds
against ol' Ron Houston.  _Despite_ all the factors that stood against
The Athens, Georgia Madman.  _Despite_ it all... ah came within the
blink of an eye of ending Marcus Broussards dreams.  A fraction of a
second from splittin' his reality in two.  

Which ah guess goes ta show ya that thirty percent of Ron Houston is
equal ta a hundred percent of Marcus Broussard any day of the week. 

Ya'll saw it two weeks ago.  Ya'll saw a healthy East Coast Terror take
that weasily li'l snake and plunk him up on mah broad shoulders with
ease.  And ya'll saw me drop him down on his championship face one more
time... practically an instant replay of how ah ended his Rumble a few
months back. 

And ah can assure ya of one thing, Gordon. Mahself and Marcus
Broussard... that AWA National Title... we ain't finished in the least
bit, scout.

GM: Speaking of the AWA Title... with the upcoming Top Ten Contender
Battle Royal... how do you like your chances?

RH: Like 'em? Ah _love_ 'em, Gordon! 

Ain't nobody else in this entire joint that's got a better shot of
gettin' the first crack at Broussard's title. Hell, ten men... 

[Houston shrugs.]

RH:  ... ah've taken on _thirty_ before and ah'm sure ya'll remember how
that ended.

[The crowd erupts in cheers!]

RH:  And it didn't end with Broussard, or Tumaffi, or Shaw, or Marley's
hands raised in this very ring.  It didn't end with ol' Ron Houston
layin' on the outside of the ring stewin' in his own misfortune.  And it
sure as _hell_ didn't end with me comin' up short in any way shape or
form. 

The names may be different, Gordon. 

The match may be different, Gordon. 

But them results ain't a' changin' in the least bit. 

And at The Battle of Dallas... it's gonna be Houston vs. Broussard II.
And ah can assure ya that not only will the results not be the same... 

[Houston grits his teeth as he grabs his trenchcoat off the table,
draping it over his arm.]

RH:  ... But when ah'm done with him.. neither will Broussard.

[Houston turns and walks away, slapping hands with several fans as he
lumbers his way towards the back.]

GM:  Now there's a man on a mission, fans.  Don't go away - we'll be
right back after this with the Main Event!

[The camera holds for a moment on Myers and Wilde before fading to
black...

After a moment, we fade back up on a very long shot of the exterior of a
pretty dingy looking building.]

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

"Of your friends and family seeing you on television?"

[And just a little closer, revealing a red, white, and blue sign that
reads "AWA Combat Corner."]

"Well, now you can make all your dreams come true by signing up today at
the AWA Combat Corner - the official training school for the American
Wrestling Alliance!"

[We cut to the interior of the building where we can see lots of
standard gym equipment surrounding a very basic wrestling ring.  There
are people lifting weights, running on treadmills, and of course,
working out in the ring.]

"With the very best trainers in the business, the AWA Combat Corner is
the most-equipped training facility to get you in shape and get you in
the ring in the shortest amount of time!"

[Cut into the ring where Todd Michaelson is barking out instructions.]

"With former World Champion Todd Michaelson leading the classes, you can
guarantee that you will be prepared for in-ring action upon graduation
and with the AWA expanding by the day, you will have a place to work on
Day One!"

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

"So, stop by the Combat Corner today... call our offices... visit our
website... and let them know that you want to be the next AWA Superstar!
You want to be the future of the business!

You want to wrestle!"

[Fade to a graphic that has all the info on the AWA Combat Corner.  We
freeze there for a moment...

...and then fade back up on the announce desk where surprisingly "Wild
Thing" Kevin Slater has joined the team.]

GM: Ladies and gentlemen, we're back here from commercial getting ready
for a National Title defense, and we're joined by Kevin slater. Welcome
to the broadcast position, Kevin.

KS: Thanks Gordon, glad to be here.

BW: Why exactly _are_ you here, Slater? Ain't you supposed to be hidin'
like a dog from The Man With The Money?

KS:  Hiding?  Nah, I don't think so.  Fact is, Bucky, maybe I'm bored,
plain and simple. No match scheduled for tonight, and waiting for the
next attack got tedious, so here I am. 

GM: And I'm sure that as a former World Champion, you'll have some
insight for us?

KS: Exactly. I'd be glad to shed some light on the goings on in the
squared circle. The fans deserve some experienced color commentary for
once.

BW: Hey! Buckthorne Wilde is the manager of champions, daddy, they ain't
payin' me the big bucks for nothin'!

KS: Sure, sure.

GM: Fans, let's go to the ring!

[Cut to Melissa!]

MC: The following match is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute
time limit! And it is for the AWA NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP!

[Yaaaaaaay!]

MC: Introducing first, from Denton County, Texas!  Standing 6'4 and
weighing 252 pounds!

KENDALL STANTON!

[Stanton, in black tights and boots, looks to be in good shape. He
raises his arms to the audience, and the home town crowd cheers in
kind.]

MC: His opponent, from San Jose, California, weighing 252 pounds! The
AWA NATIONAL CHAMPION!

"THE SAN JOSE SHARK"

MARCUS BROOOOUUUUUUSAAAAAARD!

[Soul Coughing's "Super Bon Bon" pipes up and the audience unleashes
their hatred, as the National Champion walks out and raises his arms.
Broussard is dressed to wrestle in yellow trunks, knee pads and boots,
with a shark on the backside of the tights in white, and blue tassles on
his boots. He wears a yellow ring jacket left open, with the AWA
National Title fastened around his waist. He is halfway to the ring,
when the camera shifts to the ring, where kevin Slater is standing,
talking to Melissa Cannon.]

BW: 'ey! What's that one hit wonder tryin' to do Gordo, he of all people
shouldn't be interrupting the champ's entrance!

GM: I... I'm not sure, Bucky Wilde. Kevin Slater has taken the
microphone away from Melissa Cannon and is talking to the referee, and
Marcus Broussard does _not_ seem impressed!

[Cut to Broussard, all sorts of pissed off, talking with the Super
Ninja.]

GM: Slater now talking into the microphone...

[The crowd is buzzing as the Wild Thing takes the stick.]

KS:  So, I was sitting in the locker room, wondering, waiting, hoping
that The Man With The Money would pick tonight to show his hand.  That
either he'd show up or send another one of his errand boys.

[Slater grins as the fans cheer.]

KS:  And it occured to me while I was sitting back there that it wasn't
too likely that I was going to get jumped sitting in the back watching a
monitor.  It seems like this guy likes to do things in public.  Now,
sitting around with Gordon Myers might be a fun night but with Country
Fried Bucky?  That's another story.

[Slater rolls under the ropes, climbing to his feet and reaching into
his jeans pocket.]

KS:  Kendall Stanton, I'm here to make you an offer.

[The Wild Thing pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket, holding it up to
the cheers of the crowd.]

KS:  Kendall, I know this is a big chance for you - but kid... you know
it as well as I do... this just isn't going to happen for you.  You're
too young... you're too inexperienced... you're not going to become the
National Champion tonight.

[Stanton starts to protest but Slater lifts a hand.]

KS:  But what you can become is a wealthy man down at the bar after the
show.  I've got two grand in my hand right now and I want to trade it
for this title shot. 

[The crowd roars as Marcus Broussard's eyes go wide outside the ring.]

KS:  I've been waiting all night for someone to come after me and I'm
guessing that's just not going to happen unless I'm inside this ring. 
So I'm going to give you two thousand dollars for your title shot, just
for the opportunity to take out The Man With The Money or one of his
goons...

[Slater points to Broussard.]

KS: ...and maybe, if I feel like it, I'll take your title as well. What
do you think, kid?  It's the easiest money you're ever going to make.
Best night of work you'll ever have.

[The crowd cheers its head off as Slater hands Stanton the money. For a
moment, Kendall looks at it, then at Slater, then at the cheering
crowd... 

...but before Kendall Stanton can finish playing Deal Or No Deal, Marcus
Broussard races over to the announce desk, snatching the mic from Gordon
Myers.]

MB: No, no, no, no, no! This title match is contracted for Kendall
Stanton, right on paper. You can't go buying a title shot, Slater,
that's not how it works!

BW: That's right, who does he think he is?

MB: If you want a shot at the gold, Slater, go back and train for the
contender's battle royal. Tonight is Stanton's lucky night, not yours.
And Meekly, if you let this farce continue on for even a second longer I
can guarantee you that there will be a formal complaint from my legal
team delivered to the AWA offices tomorrow, and you might find yourself
out of work.

So do your job, and tell Slater to go back to witness protection. Get in
there, Stanton! Tonight's your lucky night!

[Broussard, good and pissed now, stomps into the ring, whips off his
coat and javelins it to the outside. He gets right into Meekly's face
and then points a finger at Slater.]

GM: Marcus Broussard is incensed, Bucky Wilde! 

BW: And why not? You know how much work the Shark does in preparation
for every match, and now Slater is going to buy that title shot? No way
baby, nothin' doin'. Kevin Slater has to earn his title shot just like
everyone else!

GM: Like Kendall Stanton did?

BW: He was handpicked by Marcus! That's like winnin' the local fair, the
county fair AND the state fair! That's like a blue ribbon for goat
ropin', Gordo. It don't get no more legit than that.

[Back to the ring, as Broussard says, "WELL?" to referee Meekly. The
referee takes the mic from Melissa and addresses the crowd.]

MM: Due to the written contract in place, Kevin Slater _cannot_ take
Kendall Stanton's place in this match!

[The crowd roars with jeers for the official decision.]

MM: This contracted match has been signed for Kendall Stanton, and he'll
be the one taking the title shot. However, Kevin Slater has requested to
stay in Stanton's corner for this match and I will allow it! Start the
match!


"DING DING DING!"


GM: Much to the Champion's delight, Kendall Stanton will be wrestling in
this match. However, having someone with Kevin Slater's experience in
his corner is going to be huge!

BW: Stanton could have Abraham Lincoln and Norman Schwarzkopf in his
corner, and he'd still have less of a chance than Wile E. Coyote trying
to catch the Road Runner.

[Both champion and challenger lock up in the center of the ring, and
jockey for position. The stronger Stanton actually gets the advantage
and pushes Broussard into the corner!  A big cheer goes up!  Kevin
Slater cheers him on, as Marcus Broussard regroups.]

GM: Back into a lockup, and Broussard with a lightning quick go
behind... try for a double leg takedown, no, Stanton keeps his balance.
A driving knee to the quad of Stanton, and Broussard backs up... ohh,
boot right to the leg.

BW: This Stanton's a pretty big boy, Gordo, can't take that away from
him. 

GM: Broussard is talking with the referee, pointing at the knee...
referee Meekly is checking the kneepad of Stanton at the champ's
request, Stanton is bending over to check- oh, come on now!

[That'd be the reaction to Broussard kicking a bent over Kendall Stanton
right in the throat, and cackling up a storm as the challenger clutches
at his throat and gasps for air.]

BW: Brilliant Shark, pure brilliance, daddy!

GM: How could you- why would you- what kind of a person cheers on a man
like Broussard?

BW: Somebody who likes winners, Gordo, and that's exactly what our
champion is. 

[Broussard whips a still choking Stanton to the ropes, and then steps up
and drop toe holds the challenger to the mat. Marcus slaps the back of
Stanton's head and then slips into a grounded front facelock, grinding
his forearm into the face of Kendall Stanton.]

GM: And then Broussard shows off his technical prowess on the mat, and
that might be what's so infuriating about him, Bucky. 

BW: Marcus Broussard doesn't bend the rules because he has to, daddy, he
bends the rules because he wants to. That's why he's so dangerous. The
man knows every angle to be had. 

GM: Broussard cinching in that facelock now, with Kevin Slater leading
the fans in cheers, and Kendall Stanton seems to be responding! Stanton
to his feet, and he lifts Broussard- Marcus into a sunset flip!

[The champion pulls on the legs of Kendall Stanton, trying to complete
the pin attempt, but Stanton waves his arms to keep his balance... and
then falls to his knees, and begins to lace in right hands to the head
of the champion!]

GM: Right hand, right hand, and another one by Kendall Stanton! He's not
feeling any pressure, and he's taking it to the champion!

BW: Stick and move, baby, stick and move!

GM: Up to a standing base, Kendall sends Broussard for the ride... scoop
slam and a beauty! Back up, another scoop slam! Back up for a third,
scoop slam- no, Broussard slips down the back!

[Marcus turns Kendall Stanton around, locks him in a bearhug, then pops
the hips and hurls...]

GM: Beautiful belly to belly suplex by the champion. Both men up in the
corner now, Broussard laces Kendall's arms around the ropes and exposes
his chest- oh, my goodness. A stinging knife edge chop, make that two,
Bucky Wilde, as the champion opens up now. Whip to the farside, reversed
by Stanton, and Broussard charges out of the corner... ohhh, my oh my,
big back body drop by the challenger! 

BW: He got so high on the air he oughta have a stewardess!

[Kevin Slater is facing the crowd, clapping his hands and leading the
cheers as Kendall Stanton measures the champion, bounces off the ropes
and floors a rising Marcus Broussard with a clothesline! Broussard gets
right up on instinct, and Stanton steamrolls him with another
clothesline!]

GM: Kendall Stanton is rising to the challenge right in front of our
very eyes! Marcus Broussard is in serious jeopardy!

BW: Stanton's playbook ain't got a lot of pages, Gordo, but the plays
all work. He's just over powering the man right now, and he's got the
Shark on his heels. Or, well, on his fins.

GM: Stanton sends Broussard for the ride... side backbreaker, done
excellently! And we've got a cover! One, two, no- kickout by the
champion.

[Slater slaps the mat as the crowd implores Stanton to stay on the
offensive. He strikes with a back elbow, then an uppercut, and hooks
Broussard for a suplex. He lifts... but the San Jose Shark slips down
the back, jumps as high as he can and dropkicks Stanton right in the
back.]

GM: Stanton goes staggering back-


["OOOOOHHHHHHHHH!"]


GM: And he gets his arms tied up in the ropes! He's stuck in those
ropes, Bucky Wilde and wh- get him down from there, get that Ninja down
from there!

BW: Why don't you go tell the Ninja that, Gordo? You're wearing black,
you'll be okay.

GM: That man makes your blood run cold, and he's now distracting the
referee while Kendall Stanton is tied up in those ropes!

[With the Ninja asking referee Meekly where to get a good steak, the
champion grabs a hold of the ropes and lays in kick after kick after
kick after kick to the solarplexus of Kendall Stanton, nine in all. When
the referee finally rids himself of the Ninja, he turns around to find
Broussard helping Stanton out of the ropes, and then hitting the
adjacent ropes...]

GM: What a maneuver by Marcus Broussard, a tremendous running
neckbreaker. Everything done with precision and flawless technique by
the National Champion, and Kendall Stanton is feeling the effects of
that now. To the second rope, Broussard is perched... fistdrop right
between the eyes!

[Very proud of himself, and hey why not, Broussard leans over the ropes
and gloats at Slater, taunting him and smiling obnoxiously... and then
gets a right hand to the face for it! The crowd erupts!]

BW: Hey! What the- disqualify him, disqualify that man! Kendall Stanton
should be disqualified right here, right now, and this match should be
given to the champion! 

GM: I think my monitor went out Bucky, I just assumed he tripped and
fell.

BW: Would you be serious! Marcus Broussard just got mugged by that no
good, yellow, low down snake in the grass named Kevin Slater! 

[Broussard recovers from the haymaker, then turns around right into a
belly to back suplex, with Stanton holding the bridge!]

GM: ONE! TWO! T- KICKOUT BY MARCUS BROUSSARD! Can you believe the
gumption of this Kendall Stanton, he's only a second away from pulling
off a tremendous upset!

BW: It ain't over til the fat lady sings, Gordo, believe that! Marcus
Broussard has too many tricks up his sleeve!

GM: Stanton drops the elbow- dodged by Broussard. Both men up, Stanton
charges- ohhh, what a counter by Broussard!

[That'd be a hotshot from Broussard, who charges off the other side and
leaps into action, running over Stanton with a high knee to the back.]

GM: A running high knee, reminiscent of "Dream Machine" John Preston,
and Broussard is cooking now. He drags Stanton to his feet, grabs him
for a suplex, oh- and sets Stanton on the second rope, facing out!

BW: Watch this move, Gordo, he's been talking about this to me for a few
weeks!

[Marcus grabs Stanton for a neckbreaker, then falls to the ground,
bringing Stanton falling out of the turnbuckle and into the ring.]

GM: My goodness, a vicious maneuver by Marcus Broussard, and here's the
cover! One, two, three!


"DING DING DING!" 


GM: A big victory over a game Kendall Stanton- here comes the Ninja,
these two aren't done!

[The referee can't even raise the hand of Broussard, who is right on top
of Stanton, raining down right hands on him while the Ninja stomps on
him. Then Broussard stands up and they both stomp the living hell out of
Kendall Stanton, who can do nothing but cover up from the beating.]

GM: Is this really necessary? Is this REALLY necessary, Bucky Wilde? No,
it's not! 

BW: The match is over Gordo, this is just post match festivities!

[POP!]

GM: KEVIN SLATER WITH THE SAVE! HE SLIDES IN THE RING WITH A CHAIR, AND
BOTH BROUSSARD AND THE SUPER NINJA CLEAR OUT IN SHORT ORDER! Kevin
Slater coming to the aide of Kendall Stanton, who just gave the champion
all he could handle and more. 

BW: Second place is still first loser Gordo, they don't give awards for
heart. Almost just isn't good enough, like my mama's friend Earl used to
say,

GM: Marcus Broussard continues to show absolutely no class, while Kevin
Slater continues to be one of the dignified individuals in the AWA.

[In fact, Slater now has the microphone and is pointing down the aisle
at the retreating Broussard.]

KS: Broussard, you worthless scumbag... you've gone and done it. This
kid takes you to the limit, gives you a great challenge and you can't
walk away without giving him a few parting gifts.   You're no better
than The Man With The Money and it makes me sick to see you walking
around with that gold.

[Slater shakes his head back and forth a few times before looking up at
the San Jose Shark who is coming back towards the ring now, clutching a
steel chair of his own.]

KS:  Well guess what, Broussard, next week it won't be a rookie giving
you a challenge. 

I think I can take a week off trying to get out from under this bounty.

[A big cheer.]

KS:  Next week?  It'll be the "Wild Thing" Kevin Slater coming after
that National Title, and pinning you one, two, three in this squared
circle! I'm coming for you, Broussard, and your little ninja too! 

[Slater spikes the microphone and climbs to the second ropes, gesturing
around his waist for the National Title...]

GM:  Did you hear that, Bucky?!  Kevin Slater's coming to The Battle Of
Dallas and he's coming for the gold!  Fans, we've gotta go!  We're out
of time!  Stay tuned for the Texas Rangers pre-game show!  And make sure
you check out the AWA website for the announcement of who will be in the
Top Ten Contenders Battle Royal next weekend!  We've gotta go!  For
Bucky Wilde, I'm Gordon Myers and we'll see _you_... at the matches!

[With Slater still menacing Broussard from inside the ring, we fade to
black.]